Tickle Commission Collection
by Ticklesforyou
Summary: A collection of tickle stories I was paid to write. Some feature all original characters while others are complete fanfiction. VERY mature tickling; read only if you are of age (not like I'd know) and if you enjoy such things. Currently includes originals, Danganropa and Fairy Tail.
1. The Jealous Mother

**(That cover photo is borderline enough that it might get my account deleted, but it was both the most appropriate and most sfw pic I had for a this, so I'm going to take the gamble and pray that no one busts me for it.)**

**This is a collection of commissions. I was paid to write them, and I'm willing to accept pay to write more. If you enjoy tickling and my writing style and have an idea for a story you'd like to read, then by all means, take a look over at the most recent journal entry on my DA page (Ticklesforyou) to find out the commissioning details. ...Or just send me a message asking for them; I can understand if scouring Deviantart for the journal entry in question sounds like too much work. I'd put up a link to the details here, but fanfiction doesn't allow that.**

**First up is an all original 3,000-word commission placed by my close friend and Discord RP buddy, BehemothBear. These characters are all mine. Not like it matters; I chose not to name them. The idea here is that you get to experience the life of a teenage girl with an abusive mother through her eyes without ever knowing exactly who they are, like an anonymous testimony or reading through an old, disturbing diary. Or perhaps, you could say it's a psychic vision you're having of someone somewhere, but the vision never tells you who or where, and as such, there's nothing you can do about what you've seen.**

**Well, I try to make it sound poetic, but it was actually a bit of a pain to write, practically speaking. Dealing with two female characters, one of whom is mostly referred to as "she" while the other one also needs to use that pronoun occasionally? Not easy. Remind me to always include names from now on.**

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**The Jealous Mother**

She never knew her father. According to Mom, he died in an accident before she was born, but she didn't believe that anymore. He probably left just like all of Mom's boyfriends since then. This may sound like a harsh assessment for a daughter to make of her mother, but Mom was a harsh person. She had a short temper, a spoiled personality and was just all around mean.

It was always that way as far back as she could remember. When Mom came home from a bad day at work or a date-gone-wrong, the supposedly loving parent would get drunk and take her wrath out on the blonde-haired child. But Mom was not so cruel or heartless of a mother that she had ever actually_ hurt_ her. Instead the dark-haired woman, her breath reeking of booze, would tickle her.

If she were one of those lucky children who enjoy being tickled, this would have been all well and good, but she wasn't. She _hated_ being tickled. It didn't matter where; every part of her body was unbearably ticklish. Her mother took advantage of that to vent her fury in a way that left her unharmed, that way know one would ever know that she was being abused.

She feared tickling above all else. So naturally, she learned strategies to appease her mother's temper from an early age. She learned to always agree with everything Mom said, offer her drinks (particularly alcohol) and food, and give her massages all in an effort to cool her mother's temper before getting tickled. At first, results were variable, but in time, Mom decided she prefers being spoiled and pampered to torturing her daughter. Usually. And as such, in time she managed to avoid getting tickle tortured more than once a month.

This delicate balance was far from ideal, but it was the best she could hope for, so she did everything she could to maintain it. But then something unavoidable disrupted that balance. She got older. With age came beauty, and that beauty was not lost on Mom, especially when she started to catch her trashy boyfriends glancing sidelong at the teen. She had become curvy in all the right places, her subservient attitude was endearing, and to top it all off her breasts had grown larger than her mother's-a D-cup compared to Mom's B-cup. Mom became jealous of her, and one day, something snapped.

It started one rainy day right after yet another boyfriend dumped Mom and stormed out of the house. She knew from experience that when this happened here at home, one of two things followed: either her mom would go drinking for a while and come back appeaseable, or she would immediately turn around and punish her. So it was not a surprise when Mom ordered her to come to the master bedroom. And since she had long since accepted that some ticklings were unavoidable, no matter how much she wished they weren't, she obeyed. But this time, things felt different. Normally Mom would have started ranting and raging early on, but this time, she was silent. This was a bad sign; her mother's silence could only signify that Mom was exceptionally enraged, not at the boyfriend but at her specifically.

She didn't understand why. _What did I do wrong?_ she wondered, as her mother issued a frightening new command. "Take off your clothes. All of them this time, including your underwear." _All_ of her clothes? This had never happened before. Her mother had always left her with at least some modesty.

She felt a powerful urge she hadn't felt in years: to turn around and run away as fast as she could rather than just obey. But she knew that wouldn't work. Her mother locked the exits and in this house, the only way to open the doors, even from the inside, was with the key. So she stood there hesitating for several moments, but Mom's glare grew even more vicious and, more afraid of the consequences of disobedience than merely stripping nude, the daughter slowly slipped out of her already-revealing outfit, bra, and panties and then lay down on the king-sized bed as instructed.

Mom knew where all of her most ticklish spots were and usually went straight for them. In was normal for her mom to go straight for her feet, then to her upperbody, then back to her feet. This pattern was unpleasantly burned into her expectations, but this time, Mom broke the pattern by coming over to her upperbody, getting onto the bed and straddling her waist. This was a new position and her mother was moving oddly slowly today, relishing in… something, and it made her very, very afraid.

"...Do you think you're prettier than me?" The half-whispered rhetorical question surprised her. She'd never once thought that; she'd been _conditioned_ not to think that. Yes, Mom had a rotten personality, but she had always thought of her as extremely beautiful. But while she was still processing the question, her mom suddenly reached over and gripped her breasts. "You think these oversized milk jugs make you better than me?!" Mom screamed, shaking her tits around.

A feeling like an electric shock tore through her body. She'd never had her breasts fondled before. She'd been _told_ that's it's supposed to be arousing, and to be sure, she did feel a sensual heat filling her body involuntarily. But more than that, the mere touch _tickled_. She'd never heard that boobs could be ticklish and right at that moment, she wished she'd never had to know. Because she knew her mom, and Mom knew her. She'd been conditioned to never hold back when she felt a ticklish sensation, and Mom knew every single flinch, twitch and wiggle that signified it. The instant her mother touched her, not intending to tickle but apparently touching a ticklish spot, she yipped, and her face twisted into a pained grin. And Mom, of course, noticed immediately.

All motion stopped. Mom apparently hadn't been planning to start tickling right away. She'd thought she would molest her daughters huge tits first as punishment for having them. Maybe she might even be psychotic enough to finally harm her after all these years. But the instant she reacted to the touch, those ideas went away. Mom looked at her. She looked at Mom. And slowly… Mom's face turned into an evil smile, the kind that signified that mercy was far away and the night's session would last for a long, long time. "So they're ticklish? I guess these big ugly basketballs are good for something then. Let's find out how much."

Mom's fingers began spidering over the sides of her breasts, slowly slipping around, in between, and overtop in their search for the best reactions. "Eeheeheeheeheehahahah, stohohohohop pleeheeheeheeheeheease!" She knew that begging was useless, and normally she wouldn't bother this early in the session. But this was different; she was being violated in a completely new way and couldn't stop the words from slipping out.

This did nothing but encourage her mother, who decided to tickled harder and faster in response. "Yeah, that's right! That'll teach you to have bigger boobs than me! These meat sacks only exist to be tickled! Just big ticklish lumps like the rest of your useless body!" She mocked and degraded her own daughter while tormenting one of her most private parts.

It was already torture by itself. If this were any other body part, she would have hated it but also accepted it. But as it was, she wasn't only feeling tickling. Having her breasts fondled and teased like this turned her on immensely, and she was so incredibly ashamed of that, especially since the person causing it was her own mother. "NOHOHOHO, DOHOHOHON'T AH-AH-AHAHAHAHA!" That was the real reason she was pleading so much. She couldn't stand this-being turned on by her mother's tickling was a punishment worse than any other before from an emotional standpoint. Of course, Mom didn't stop. Mom just kept tickling and tickling and tickling. The long fingernails settled on scribbling under and between her boobs, which made her squeal louder than ever. This was almost as bad as her feet even without the arousal.

Most people don't know how much time passes while being tickled. Seconds feel like minutes, minutes like hours, and hours like eternity. But torturous tickling had been a part of her life forever, so she knew, even if it didn't feel like it, that her mother had only tickled her for one minute before pausing. She gulped down huge lungfuls of air, causing her sensitive chest to rise and fall under her mom's watchful gaze, until finally Mom ended the break with the words, "You seem to be enjoying yourself," and placed one fingernail on her left areola.

"Aaaahn!" Her moan confirmed her mother's words even as she felt the laughter bubbling up again. Her nipples were fully erect and, she could tell, very sensitive to tickling. "Please, no, don't…"

"You're rock hard during your punishment?! Have you been getting turned on by me this whole time?! Is that why you're always trying to get me to tickle you?!" This ridiculous accusation was accompanied by ten fingernails scratching and pinching and flicking both nipples at once. And she laughed louder and begged harder than she had in her whole life. This was not a_lmost_ as bad as her feet: it was officially _worse_. She was getting wet down under and yet she'd never felt further away from an orgasm before-the tickling was far too intense for that even ignoring how wrong it felt emotionally.

This went on and on for more than 10 minutes. Mom switched between her underboobs, the in between and her nipples again and again, all the while taunting and rebuking her for her body's reaction. And with the passage of time, she started begging for release. 10 minutes of being held on edge is a long time when being tickled-long enough to make her want to cum even if it did feel wrong. But Mom would have none of it; she was angry and this was a punishment. Although, Mom _was_ more than happy to taunt her for it. "You want to cum? Hmm? You want me to get a vibrator out and masturbate you? Fuck that!" And after 10 minutes, her mom decided it was time to move elsewhere.

Mom's hands suddenly jumped over to her armpits and scrambled up and down her sides. This was significantly less ticklish, which was a relief, but also killed her arousal, which was torturous in its own right. She had to deal with the frustration of being denied and the guilt of wishing her mother had stroked her vagina while laughing and squirming in tickle hell. Mom hit all of her sweetest sweet spots on her upperbody: the center of her armpits, that one rib right on the bottom of her ribcage, that torturous point on her hips and her extra sensitive navel. And every so often, Mom would reach up and tickle her breasts again, as if to remind her daughter that this was all because they were there.

From that day onward, breast tickling was regularly incorporated into their sessions whenever they happened. This was bad enough in and of itself, but what was worse was that her mother took quite a liking to it. So much so, in fact, that her old tactics for getting out of tickling did little to appease her mom now. Mom was so jealous of her boobies that she wanted to tickle them more and more. Before long, the sessions had become daily again, and Mom started coming up with all kinds of creative ways to tickle her melons.

One day, she used a really long feather, snaking it between and around her breasts while her chest was propped up on the bed by a mountain's worth of pillows under her back. Another day, she was tied with her body hanging backwards off the edge of the bed, her underboobs on full display thanks to gravity, and an electric spinning duster pressed into them. And then on another day, she was tied sitting on the floor with her hands behind her back and her legs stuck in a pretzel shape with her feet pointing up; Mom sat behind her and pressed electric toothbrushes into her nipples and toes while whispering cruel promises that "discipline" was for her own good into her ear.

She hated it. She hated it! With every as-of-yet untamed ounce of her soul, she utterly hated it! But she also couldn't deny how much it turned her on, how wet her pussy would get, how she desperately wanted release. And in her darkest dreams in the dead of night, of which she had many, she found herself becoming horny at the thought of being tickled for eternity. Most of those dreams ended with demons who looked suspiciously like her mother but male having sex with her while they tickled at _first_, but over time, she started to dream of being tickled on her genitalia until she orgasmed. And that, _that_ was what she hated the most. She was being traumatized and conditioned to crave tickling during sex and she was well-aware of it. And yet ironically, the one responsible didn't want sex at all, just punishment.

This process lasted almost a year. And then one day, she woke up orgasming in the middle of the night merely as the result of one of these wet dreams. She was in tears as she realized how incredibly broken she was, and a thought suddenly occurred to her-a revolutionary thought the likes of which she'd never had. Maybe… maybe she could get revenge on Mom? It was the middle of the night. She'd be fast asleep. Maybe she could…

About an hour later, her mother started to dream that a handsome but angry angel had descended to her. He was delivering God's judgement: that she should be tickled for eternity as an atonement for the torture she'd inflicted on her daughter. Then the angel reached a wing out to her stocked foot and started sliding his feathers around. Mom laughed and struggled and tried to get away, but she couldn't. She was trapped. Trapped…

Mom suddenly woke up to find the nightmare was in fact reality. Only she wasn't on the border between heaven and hell and her tormentor was not some handsome angel she was secretly wishing would be her next boyfriend. It was her, the daughter, tickling her feet with her own featherduster.

Mom was furious. "YOU BITCH!" she yelled, causing her to recoil and drop the duster in fear. "WHEN I GET OUT OF HERE, YOU'RE GOING TO BE LAUGHING FOR DAYS, DO YOU HEAR ME?"

She ran out of the room terrified of what she'd started. But hours passed and no one chased her. No one came and tied her down and tickled her senseless. And eventually, she tiptoed cautiously back to the master bedroom to find her mother still there, staring at the ceiling after having given up trying to get out. Her mother looked over at her and with obviously forced gentleness demanded to be let out while promising that she wasn't mad and wouldn't punish her. It was so obvious that she was lying. But… why?

Because Mom really was helpless. She really couldn't escape.

Suddenly the daughter, long tortured and abused and now in the prime of her rebellious phase, became emboldened. Yes, why should _she_ be the one to suffer all the time? She walked over to her mother as flighty as a wild kitten to a human with food. But in her eyes, a hungry light started to grow brighter and perhaps Mom realized that because her pleas for release started to sound more and more convincing.

Her mother had never cared about wearing pajamas; she was already completely nude when the daughter tied her down. And after months of sexual frustration at her mother's hands, she knew exactly what she wanted to do. Her mind had twisted and warped to the point where she craved nothing more than for her mom to tickle her to orgasm; as much as she loathed the idea and hated herself for it, she would nonetheless do anything to attain it. So she would teach Mom what it feels like to be denied.

She reached out her hands and started to tickle her mother's small, hand-sized boobs. The reaction was instantaneous. "NAAAHAHAHAHAHA, YOOHOOHOOHOOHOU BIHIHIHIHIHIHITCH! I'HIHIHIHIHIM GOHOHOHOHONNA MUHUHUHUHURDER YOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOU! STOHOHOHOHOHOP!" Mom was ticklish. Mom was very ticklish. The discovery sent a wave of euphoria through her; Mom was so very, incredibly ticklish!

She entered a trance-like state, a half-dead, half-awed smile on her face. She mumbled, "Tickle, tickle, tickle," like a mantra as she explored her mother's naked body. She explored her armpits, her sides, her ribs, her stomach, her thighs, her knees, her feet. For hours and hours, Mom laughed and struggled. About halfway through, her mother had stopped making threats and simply begged for it to stop. Mom apologized over and over and offered everything she could think of to her daughter-money, a permanent end to punishments, the key to the house. But she wanted none of that. What she wanted… was to know if this turned on her mother as much as it did her.

So she pulled out Mom's smallest brush from her collection of toys and the horrible, horrible electric toothbrush from before and came back over to her mother. After several hours of torment she whispered into her ear: "I want to be where you are. And I want you to do what I'm about to do to you." And then she placed the toothbrush down on Mom's areola and the tiny little brush on her clit. She brushed and stroked as her mother laughed and laughed for minutes on end all the way to climax. "Please. Do that for me. Promise me, and I'll let you switch places with me." Her voice was dripping with desperate lust and she didn't stop tickling Mom while she spoke.

Mom's laughter reached a desperate peak as she cried, "YES, YES I PROHOHOMIHIHIHIHISE AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" That was all she needed to hear, and so she started untying the ropes. Her panting mother, however, didn't make the promise merely out of a desire to escape. No, in those few seconds between when she came and when she made the promise, she learned something she'd never known. Orgasming makes you more ticklish. Yes, she would let her daughter cum from now on. And she would make her wish she hadn't. And… she would also remember to lock her room at night from now on.


	2. Virtual Tickle Hell

**Commission number two is another 3000-word story requested by horrible-Username (that's not me being rude, it's his actual username). And if you're familiar with his commissioning habits, then you already know what this story is about; mercilessly, horrifically and orgasmically tickling Chiaki Nanami from Danganronpa with machines.**

**This is actually the second time I've tried writing something for h-U. The first time around, it was a free request with no specified word count. That one never got finished because I went overboard with lore and didn't add enough tickling, which is pretty normal for me. I stopped writing after a while because I wasn't satisfied with it, and at some point along the way while the story was shelved, I lost all of my word documents (which is why I back them all up in my google drive now), so that tale was lost to the void permanently. That's why I price commissions based on word count these days; limitations make it easier to prioritize what _MUST_ be written and what I have _TIME_ to slip in. And that in turn makes it easier to get it done in a timely fashion; I surprised _myself_ when I got this story done in just a few days over the course of two writing sessions (although the fact that h-U was very detailed about what he wanted to see helped immensely on that front).**

**That said, I actually make reference to the original request in this story. No one would know this, but the tormentor featured here is actually an OC Danganronpa character of mine with a backstory and motivations and such that I have all worked out in my head. _And_ he was also meant to be the villain in the original request, where I went overboard _explaining_ all of that backstory. When writing this commission, then, I decided to use his character and build up a certain sense of mystery around him without actually focusing on him at all: basically the opposite of what happened the first time around. **

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**Virtual Tickle Hell**

She was dead. Technically, she'd never actually been alive in the first place, but her program had been deleted, so she was effectively dead. She'd been executed for unknowingly killing someone, an overly harsh punishment for a crime that the victim had orchestrated himself. Monokuma had been quite thorough, so nothing short of a miracle should have been capable of piecing together her program again even for a moment, though to be fair that had happened once before. But the program she'd been a part of-the Neo World Program-had been shut down not too long after that, so there could be no doubt that she was now unequivocally and irreversibly dead forever.

So then, why was she awake?

Chiaki Nanami looked around at the small, cold, metallic room she was in. A door was set into one side and a frilly bikini she'd once worn to the beach (on a very unpleasant occasion) was hung up on the wall next to it. Above the door was an ominous-looking sign with the words "Titillating Dungeon Exploration Game!" written on it followed by an arrow pointing down to the door. And up in the right-hand corner of the room, there was a terribly familiar monitor and sound system-the same variety Monokuma had used to make announcements during the Killing School Trip.

"...Hmm… This is pretty bad… I think." This had the Remnants of Despair's handiwork written all over it. She didn't know how she'd ended up in their clutches-or even how they'd repaired her program in the first place-but she refused to give into their terror. Whatever cruel plans they had, she would fight through it. But where would she start? "...Knowing Junko and her followers… They probably didn't plan for me to stay here forever. Judging from the sign on the door, they probably want me to fall into despair while playing an escape game." So she reached for the handle and tried turning it, but it wouldn't budge. "No good, it's locked." Her eyes glanced over at the bikini on the wall and groaned a bit. "They… want me to put that on first, don't they?"

"Thaaaat's right!" A clearly-forced, high-pitched voice interrupted Chiaki's monologue. The screen in the room flickered to life and the hazy outline of a humanoid figure appeared. His visage was too blurred to make out, but it was definitely a human, not Monokuma. Yet, it also had a red, lighting-shaped left eye, as if whoever it was had replaced part of his body with Monokuma's trademark. "Sorry for not speaking up sooner, but I'm very busy in the real world. I didn't realize you were up and about until you tried opening the door. Aaaaanyway, before we begin, you need to put on the proper attire. The door won't open until you do."

Chiaki's eyes narrowed at the man on the monitor. Or maybe she was just still a bit sleepy, seeing as she yawned before speaking. "What if... I decided to just stay here until you open the door anyway?"

"KYAHAHAHAHA! I was hoping you'd ask that!"

Suddenly, Chiaki felt a fluttering sensation on her feet. She suddenly realized something she should have noticed much sooner-these were not her shoes. They were metal machines of some sort, and something inside them was _tickling_ her. "Eeheeheehee! What? Stohohohop!" She collapsed to the floor trying to yank them off, but they were quite thoroughly stuck.

"You'll be able to take off your shoes only after taking off the rest of your clothes and putting the proper uniform on! Until then, have fun! KYAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Chiaki glared up at the screen through her giggling as it turned off. It seemed that she had been captured by an annoyingly perverted Remnant. But complaining wasn't going to stop the tickling, which was getting more unbearable every second as the intensity increased. So she ripped off her clothes and crawled naked over to the bikini. Putting it on was no small challenge when she could barely keep herself from flailing all over the place, but eventually, after many failed attempts to hook the top, she succeeded. The shoes suddenly let out a hiss and split in two, leaving her gratefully barefoot.

The clicking sound of the door unlocking resonated through the room as she massaged the tingling out of her feet, and the voice from before spoke again, this time without the monitor turning on. "It's about time; we're almost a third of the way through your time limit already. Better hurry, or the exit will seal shut before you even make it to the halfway point."

"There's a time limit?... I see. Then I should get moving… I guess." Reluctantly and with much inner cursing, Chiaki stood turned toward the door and opened it. Beyond lay a very dimly lit maze of hallways.

As she stepped out into the maze, a siren went off and a pre-recorded female voice said, "The challenger has arrived. The challenger must traverse the dungeon within the prescribed time limit to avoid permanent titillation. Remaining in one place for more than five minutes will result in a penalty. Begin in 3… 2… 1… Start!"

Then another siren went off, and as Chiaki started running, she heard the male voice from before call out behind her, "Let's give it everything we've got! IIIIIITTT'SSS PUNISHMENT TIIIIIMMME!"

Suddenly, holes appeared in the ground under Chiaki's feet. At first, she feared she was about to get impaled from below, but instead of spikes, feathers burst up from the holes and started tickling her legs and feet. She shrieked in surprise and tilted sideways, leaning against the wall to keep her upright as she worked her way through. No sooner was she past the feather-spikes, however, than the wall suddenly betrayed her. A slit in the wall opened up, and fluffy buffer slipped out to rapidly tickle her sides and the exposed armpit. She jumped away quickly without watching where she placed her feet. She stepped on some sort of floor trigger and had some strange yellow gas poor down on her from above as a result. The lingering tingling sensation on her side and armpit suddenly magnified, and she knew that she'd become even more ticklish.

"Haaah, haaah, so that's how it is. This isn't going to be easy." She panted and refocused her attention. This was a dungeon-she knew all the stereotypical traps that could appear. She just had to be careful and watch out for them.

Easily said. Not so easily done. It was too dark to see much of anything in here, and she was still on a timer. She couldn't afford to go too slowly, but she couldn't see what was ahead either. So it didn't take long for her to step on another trigger. She tried to jump out of the way of whatever was coming, but only half-succeeded; the floor dropped out from under her and she had to grab onto a bar that appeared overhead. The good news was that the bar led over to the other side of the gap, so she could still cross over to the other side. The bad news was that six fuzzy vines had risen up from the hole in the ground and started tickling her feet, legs and midriff, trying to make her let go.

"No! Nohohoho! Stoooohohohohoppit!" Focussing on moving forward with those vines tickling her was no easy task. And as if to add insult to injury, while she was hanging there unable to fight back, two of the vines reached into her bikini and ripped it right off, leaving her naked all over again. Fearing what the reason for that might be, she rushed forward as fast as she could, sliding her hand along the bar, but right as she reached the end, one of the vines wrapped around her ankles and held her back. "Ah! Nohohoho, lehehehet gohohohoho!" But of course, they didn't let go. Instead, more and more vines reached out of the hole in the floor, tickling her armpits and ribs, teasing around her breasts and finally, sliding between her legs to rub against her pussy. Heat filled her body as she was forced to feel both tickling and pleasure on her most private parts.

When she couldn't take anymore, she let go of the bar, but another pair of vines slipped down from above to snag her wrists before she could fall, as if to let her know they were toying with her the whole time. And as she hung there, one more came up with a flower on the end and sprayed more of the yellow gas into her face. Unable to stop laughing, she inhaled all of it, and the tickling sensation increased a hundredfold. "AHAHAHAHAHAHA, PLEAHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!" She hung there, unable to form a comprehensible sentence. As if mocking how much she hated the tickling, the vines spread her legs and stroked her thighs and pussy even more, sending jolts of ticklish pleasure running through her.

She was on the verge of being forced to orgasm, when a fiery light filled the gap in the floor, and the vines released her with a sickly shrieking sound. "Attention! You only have half the remaining time left!" the voice of the man-Monokuma said over the sound of the plant thing dropping her to the floor on the other side of the gap and retreating to its domain. "I helped you out this time, but next time you get stuck, you're on your own. Go, go, go!"

And at the same time, the mechanical female voice also spoke. "The challenger has remained in place for too long. A Mouzoid shall now be released into the maze."

Chiaki's body didn't want to move. She was exhausted and ashamedly horny. But if she didn't try to escape quickly, whatever chance this twisted game had given her would be lost. So she reluctantly picked herself up and analyzed the next branch in the tunnels. To the right, she could hear the clanking of machinery. To the left, she could faintly hear something skittering over the floor.

The announcement said that something called a "Mouzoid" was now in the maze with her. It the thing moving around was something designed to chase her down, she probably couldn't deal with it. Traps, she might be able to avoid triggering, but if raised the aggro of whatever that thing was, it would probably ruin her hope of escape. Thus, she ran off to the right.

Rounding the corner, what she saw in the dim light of the hall was the most extravagant and straightforwardly obvious roadblock to date. The passage in front of her was a maze of criss-crossing conveyor belts covered in carefully cushioned mattresses to ensure that anyone who fell down while trying to navigate them would land comfortably. Mechanical limbs armed with all manner of tickling tools dangled from the ceiling ready to overwhelm anyone who tried to pass over the treacherous floor. The tools grew more dense near the center, and the majority of the belts seemed designed to pull challengers in that direction, with the conveyor belts in the middle of the hall just going around and around in a circle.

However, as Chiaki stood there contemplating whether the trap was worth running through, she saw two critical details that gave her hope and resolve. The first was that on the far side, past the mass of writhing tickle tools and moving mattresses, there was a door with an exit sign. If she could get there then, theoretically, she would win. The second point was harder to puzzle out because her mind was still foggy from the tickling and her undesired arousal. However, eventually as she stood there trying to figure out the pattern of the conveyor belts, she realized that there were two long belts on the edge of the hallway going from one end to the other with very few tools guarding them. The drawback was that those belts were pushing back toward the start of the maze, but she could run across them faster than they could push her back.

She hesitated longer than she should have, thinking this method of getting through the trap was too convenient, too obvious, and too suspicious. But then she heard two frightening sounds simultaneously that spurred her into action. First, a skittering noise behind her-the sound of the Mouzoid apparently getting closer to its prey. Second, the female recording repeating the words, "The challenger has remained in place for too long. A Mouzoid shall now be released into the maze." There was no time to stand around thinking. Not only was something chasing her, another one would be soon too. It was do or die time.

Chiaki ran over to the right-hand side of the hall and jumped onto the conveyor belt. Progress was slow and it was difficult to stay balanced on the moving floor, but she adapted quickly and began the arduous journey through the trap. Glancing behind her, she saw a mouse-like robot following behind, using the conveyor belts in the center of the room to bolster its speed, navigating the maze masterfully and drawing closer with every second.

While she wasn't paying attention, one of the few mechanical arms guarding this area targeted her. "AAH!" Chiaki was utterly surprised by an electric toothbrush that shoved directly into her wet and sensitive pussy, aiming to tickle her most private spot without any fanfare. She was so stunned that she lost her footing and fell onto a different belt, one pushing toward the center.

Even as she struggled to get the toothbrush out (or was she trying to push it in?) several more appendages equipped with feathers, brushes and hands descended on her. As they grabbed and tickled her, she realized that letting the belts pull her deeper in would only make it worse. So, using every ounce of her gamer instincts, she rolled and crawled and writhed and squirmed her way across multiple belts, seeking out the ones that pushed away from the center. The arms retracted one by one, and as her mind started to clear up, she thought she was almost free.

But she'd forgotten about the Mouzoids.

Coming down from the far side of the hall, the second Mouzoid had blocked her path. And when she turned to try and navigate a way past it, the first Mouzoid caught up to her. The robot was small with a feathery tail, spinning brushes for fangs and scratchy claws. It scrambled onto her back, slipped its tail around her thighs and dug its fangs into the side of her breast. Chiaki screamed in laughter and tried to yank it off, but she couldn't get a hand on it. Then the second Mouzoid, having quickly run down the fast route, tackled her from the front, pushing her back inward while also latching its tickling claws onto her belly. Its brushes dug into the underside of her other breast and its tail slid down to rub between her legs.

Chiaki's laughs mingled with moans as the heat filling her body built toward climax again. But this time, there was no ill-timed rescue, nor could she fight against it. This time, she tickling on her private regions pushed her to orgasm while the matresses pulled her deeper into the middle of the hall. There was a brief moment of overwhelming pleasure, even in the midst of the hellish tickling, as her body was wracked with wave after wave of orgasmic spasms.

And then… "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO STOHOHOHOHOHOHOP!" As the climax ended, her hell magnified. Her sensitivity multiplied post orgasm and the number of mechanical limbs descending to tickle her armpits, sides, ribs, tummy, legs, feet, toes, and every private region from her breasts to her ass and pussy, multiplied exponentially. She found herself unable to resist, too tired from the running, the tickling and the orgasming to budge as she the various tools overwhelmed her. She was in the center of the hall now, spinning around in circles in the center of the trap.

"Aw, so close, and you only have a couple minutes left," said the false high-pitched voice. "I know I said I wouldn't help you again, but it would be a shame to let the game end at the best part. Alright, just one more time."

Suddenly all the machines ground to a halt. Chiaki didn't move though. She lay there struggling to catch her breath for several minutes, slowly pealing the motionless Mouzoids off her. The female voice announced the release of a third Mouzoid into the maze as punishment for staying in the center of the conveyor trap for too long, but she barely registered it. Chiaki dragged her way across the matresses, finally regaining enough strength to stand and walk over to the door as the trap sprung back into motion behind her. The Mouzoids were moving again too, but that wouldn't matter if she could just open the door. Just, push the "Door open" button on the side… and she'd be free…

_Flash_

The light from the other side blinded Chiaki temporarily as the door _wooshed_ open. But what she saw when her eyes adjusted left her feeling nothing but despair. Yes, on the other side of the door, there was an exit. But before that was a control room full of monitors, and before that, a barred gate blocked her path. Inside the control room on the other side of the gate sitting in front of the screens like a security guard, a blond-haired, bearded man with cybernetic implants, including a Monokuma eye, slowly applauded. His voice oozed sarcasm as he said, "Congratulations on making it this far. Unfortunately, you didn't find the five keys needed to open the last gate along the way, and I don't think you'll get them in the next few seconds. So, that blast door will close now and leave you trapped forever." Even as he spoke, a third barrier started to descend from the other side of the gate. "Oh, but don't worry, you won't be bored in there," he added as the blast door slowly hid him from view. "After all, if you stop running through the maze, the Mouzoids will swarm you. So please, keep scurrying around for a while before accepting your fate."

And with a resounding _clang_, the exit was sealed shut.

Chiaki wanted to cry. She wanted to collapse to the ground forever. But she heard the Mouzoids rushing across the matress maze behind her and knew that she wouldn't even get a break if she stayed still. So she turned toward a side passage and started running again.

Now she wasn't trying to escape anymore. Her only goal was to suffer as little as possible before her stamina ran out. But it would run out. And when it did, the tickling would never stop again.


	3. The Yandere Mother

**The next commission is a 4500-word one written, again, for my good friend BehemothBear. It's a pseudo-sequel to the first one-the Jealous Mother-but this time feature a male 'lee who's abused by his mother for reasons of lust rather than spite. And I learned my lesson from last time; rather than use nameless characters that make the story a pain to write, I instead decided to tell the story entirely from the mother's perspective, to give the reader a feeling of being inside the mind of a mentally unhealthy person.**

**Well, it didn't really turn out quite as planned. The mother was supposed to be full-on Yandere by the end, but, uh, the title wound up being slightly misleading on that front. She's insane, no doubts there, but she's not so obviously insane to qualify as yandere. I offered to fix that, of course, but BehemothBear was satisfied with the results and said to just leave it as is. At the end of the day, as long as the customer is satisfied, I'm not really the sort to happily go the extra mile to rewrite a huge swath of script, so I accepted his content as the sign that it was finished, and thusly this was the result.**

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**The Yandere Mother**

My name is Francine Mckarthy, and I am a happily married soldier's wife with a tickling fetish who's in love with my son.

Huh… Saying it out loud… that sounds really confusing. Let me start over.

My name is Francine Mckarthy, and for as long as I can remember, I loved tickling. Both being tickled and tickling other people. I used to have this friend when I was just a kid who loved it just as much as me. We experimented a lot when we were together, sometimes tickling each other in places that kids shouldn't be touching each other. Eventually our parents caught on, we were both chewed out, punished harshly and forbidden from seeing each other, and to top it all off, he moved away a year later. I think the whole experience must have traumatized me because when I grew older, I had two powerful sexual desires for tickling and little boys, particularly ones around the age we were at the time.

Fast forward a little more than twenty years, and I'm now married to a handsome stud I met in college. He's also into tickling, though he's actually a more of a 'ler than a 'lee, so I usually end up on the receiving end. Which is fine! I can deal with that and rope him into revenge scenarios every so often. The only real problem is his job. He's in the special forces in the marine corp, which is… _sigh_, you know, I can tie up and tickle the closest thing there is to superman which is _hot_ as fuck, but only when he's actually here at home and only when I can convince him to let me. Most of the time, he's on tour, fighting in the Middle East. I'm alone for months, sometimes years on end with no guarantee that he'll come home alive.

Oh, my son? Yeah, you're right, this is where he comes in. Early on in our marriage, my husband and I tried really hard to have a child, since there was no way to know when something would happen that would prevent him from being _able_ to have one. By the time I was twenty-one, I was pregnant, and before long, my baby boy, Ryan, was born.

Ryan is such a good little boy, always helping around the house and such. My husband encourages him to be the man who protects home while he's away. I see so much of his father in him. Too much, honestly. I thought that since he was my son I could raise him without any weird feelings, but… around the time he turned five, I started to notice that I'd get turned on when playing tickles with him, _especially_ if my hubby had been away for more than a couple weeks. That was very… terrifying, so I stopped playing tickle games with him after that.

I used to think I was a horrible mother, feeling aroused by my own child, but what was I supposed to do? Leave home? While his father was on tour no less? No, that was a terrible idea. So I kept myself closed off. I kept my distance. I avoided touching my son as much as possible while still trying to be a good mother to him.

But… I couldn't do that. Not after the incident at age 7, when Ryan almost got run over by a car. If anything were to happen to him…

So I ultimately decided on a compromise. I just wouldn't tickle him. As long as I never saw Ryan getting tickled, I felt sure we could be a proper mother and son. I could touch him all I wanted and it wouldn't be weird. And we lived with that compromise for a long time...

Everything started to change shortly after Ryan turned 11. I went into his room quietly one weekend afternoon, thinking he was taking a nap after staying up late the previous night-he did that sometimes. I swear I wasn't trying to spy on him; I just wanted to gaze at his sleeping face, so I was quite stealthy in my approach. So you can imagine my surprise when I found him not sleeping but awake and surfing the web. Now, let me add for the record, that his bed is angled in a way that ensures his back is to the door to his room when he sits and plays on his laptop, so he never noticed me enter, never realized I saw what was on his screen and heard the faint sounds of laughter seeping out of his headphones, and never knew that I instantly recognized both the website he was on and the video he was watching.

It was a tickling vid on pornhub.

I stood there stunned for several minutes. I didn't know if I should yell at him to stop, walk away quietly and pretend nothing happened… or tap him on the shoulder and tease him for having caught his hand in his pants. But well, the first one felt morally wrong-I wasn't some religious paragon of sexual purity, after all-and the third instinct frightened me, so I took option two that day.

But I couldn't get the incident out of my mind. My son had a tickling fetish. How did that happen? Had my husband and I made a slip and let him see us have sex? Did he sneak onto my computer and find my search history? Or was it maybe just a genetic thing? Or a total coincidence?

But no. The cause didn't really matter. Ryan liked tickling. Ryan _liked_ _tickling_. For several days, I couldn't get that thought out of my head. And it made me ask all kinds of questions. Why was I holding back again? Sure, sexual relations between parents and their kids is illegal and all, but… there's nothing with a parent teaching her child about sex and helping them come to understand their preferences and stuff like that, right? Right, naturally, that sort of thing is totally normal. A responsibility, even. Right? Right. Okay, yes, that's right.

I kept repeating that question and response over and over in my head, as if to justify it in my mind. _Right, this is right, this is completely okay and right._ That word kept playing through my head again and again like a mantra as I steeled myself a week later and walked into Ryan's room. It was the middle of the night, and my boy was fast asleep. He tended to be a deep sleeper, so I knew this was the perfect time to help him learn more about his fetish without him running away like the awkward preteen he is, the precious boy.

First, I removed his pajamas, leaving him totally naked. (Don't look at me like that! It's not _my_ fault he doesn't wear underwear under his pajama bottoms!) Then I took the straps that my husband and I would tie each up in (usually me) and bound him to the bed. It took a lot of adjusting, of course, and I almost thought they wouldn't fit properly, but after some trial and error that got rough enough that I thought for sure Ryan would wake up, I finally got it right. And please don't me-I'm not gonna lie; he looked… smoking hot! Like a miniature version of his dad but with my hair and no muscles.

Now you might ask how long I had to wait until he woke up after that. Honestly, I didn't have to; there's was a very easy way to wake Ryan up despite how deeply he sleeps. No, no, I didn't tickle him awake (although that would've been hot as hell and I really should try it some time); I just flipped on the light switch-Ryan can't sleep when the lights are on.

He groaned awake, slowly blinking and pulling on the ropes. "Mmmooommm… It's Saturday…" (Of course it was Saturday; I wasn't going to do this on a school day.) I think he was trying to rub his eyes the cute way he usually does if I wake him up when he's running late, but unable to do so, his eyes popped open, blinked, and then shifted up and down and all over the place. "What? What?!"

Finally those eyes looked at me. "Mom?! What?! What's going on?!"

It hurt a bit to see him take this so seriously. Didn't he trust me? Or… Oh, maybe he could already tell what I was planning to do? Yes, that must've been it. His thoughts must've been overflowing with guilty ideas about what would happen next he didn't want to admit to me. That was adorable. "Good morning, sleepyhead," I said, trying to sound calmer than I felt. "Shh, shh, don't worry, I'm just going to teach you about something special."

"Special? What? I don't… understand…"

Was he trembling? No, no, I must've been imagining it. Then again, it probably wouldn't hurt to explain. "I saw what you were watching on your computer. I know you were dreaming about… tickle games. I thought we could try it." I almost said "being tickle fucked," but that seemed too blunt. He _was_ only 11, though; he probably wouldn't know what the term meant. I would have to teach him step-by-step.

And oh, the look on his face. The way the redness poured in and his eyes widened in excitement (no, not terror: excitement). I could tell he wanted to experiment, but the poor boy was so adorably embarrassed he couldn't admit it. "What? N-n-no, mom, that's… I d-d-didn't… Am I being punished?"

"Punished?" Not really, but I didn't see a reason not to run with it for now. "...Sure. Why not? You've been a naughty boy, looking at websites you shouldn't be, and now Momma's gonna punish you." I sat down next to him while I was speaking and started to spider my fingers over his sides. He was so young, his skin was as soft and creamy as a girl's. He puffed up his cheeks and tried to hold it in, but I'm his mother; even though I hadn't done it in years, I knew exactly how to make him laugh. He couldn't hold it more than three seconds before the giggles poured out.

"Eeheeeheehee, noooo, Moooommmahahahahahaha, stohohohohohoppit!"

Ahhh! The girlish giggling, the squirming, the begging, the smile! It was heavenly, and I hadn't really even started yet. My hands roamed freely up my son's sides to his ribs and armpits, greedily seeking everything I'd denied them for years. So soft. So small. So ticklish. In less than ten seconds I had become utterly drunk on all of it and couldn't imagine why I'd ever hesitated to do this.

My son, on the other hand, still seemed reluctant to accept his true feelings. Ryan started complaining through his giggles about things that obviously didn't matter. "Nooo, pleeeheheheaseheeeheeheehee! Iiiittt tihihihihihihihickles too muhuhuhuhuhuch!"

"There's no such thing as too much tickles," I tease in response. And just to prove that point further, I decided to tickle one of his two sweet spots. I was saving the best for last, so I whirled around to the opposite end of his body and dug my hands into his little feet.

The effect was explosive. "BWAHAHAHAHAHA, NOHOHOHOHOHO, MOHOHOHOHOHOMMYEHEEHEEHEEHEE! NOT MY FEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEET!" His laughter was delicious, but after a moment, I felt like maybe I was going too quickly with this; the best way to tickle is to slowly build up to climactic moments like this. So I quickly slowed down, going from digging into Ryan's soles like crazy to slowly stroking up and down with my fingernails from the bottoms of his heels to just under the stems of his toes.

Ryan's laughter died down a bit, but it was still intense. Having his feet touched with _feathers_ probably would've had him laughing uncontrollably. And he still begged me to stop, but I didn't believe for a moment he meant it. In fact, I decided to test him a little. "Coochie coochie coo! Aw, do you want Mommy to stop tickling your feet? Would you rather I tickle your _other_ tickle spot instead?" This was a trick question because I knew his other spot was even more ticklish than his feet. And he knew it too, which is probably why he suddenly stopped trying to talk through his giggles. I even stopped tickling him for a moment and questioned him about it again, and I could tell he was struggling to decide. There was this adorably conflicted look on his face, where he kept looking between me, the spot in question and some place off to the side while biting his lip.

But he didn't answer quickly enough for my liking, so I decided to give him some encouragement by tickling his toes. I asked him a third time if he wanted me to tickle him _there_, and this time he yelled, "YES, YES, PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASSSSE TIHIHIHIHIHIHICKLE MY NIHIHIHIHIHIHIPPLES!"

Yes, that's right. My son's nipples were his number one sweet spot. Don't look at me like I shouldn't know that; he's a boy not a girl. Not to mention I'm his mother. It was perfectly natural for me to tickle him there when he was younger, so of course I would know.

Now where was I? Oh yes. After one last flick of my fingernails against his tootsies, I flipped back around to his upperbody, and tapped one of his nipples once with a fingernail before asking, "So, are you having fun then?"

There was an adorable blush on his face, and he stared at my fingers for several seconds before answering. "...Yes…" he finally said with a guilty grin appearing on his face. "This whole thing feels weird, though…"

"That's because this is how adults play," I said tactfully. "I'm doing this with you because you're becoming a man, and I think you're ready for it. Most boys your age wouldn't understand, though, so keep it a secret, okay?" I thought my son's face might twist around in confusion-most people have trouble thinking that tickling can be an adult thing. But Ryan had already discovered it in porn. So rather than bewilderment, he swelled up with pride. I might as well have said, "Today you become a man!" to him. I actually felt guilty again, for a moment, because truthfully at present, all I really saw him as was my adorable little shota boy. But I couldn't stop now, could I? Too late for regrets; nothing to do but continue. "Now then, are you ready for some more?" I asked, wiggling my fingers toward his nipples.

Ryan "Eep!"ed and giggled twitching away from the hands even though I hadn't touched him yet. "Wait, wait, Mommy, m-m-maybe that's enough for today?" he asked, but the grin on his face was slightly more playful than nervous, and I knew he didn't _really_ want me to stop.

So I responded by slowly lowering my fingernails down toward the two pink buds whispering, "Tickle, tickle, tickle," quietly at first but growing louder each time. When my fingers touched down, I was half-yelling the words in a singsong tone, and Ryan bucked and squirmed like a madman. I played with those nipples for a long time that day. I pinched and flicked and stroked and scratched. I used my fingers, feathers, brushes, my son's little stuffed dog he never outgrew. And down south from where my attention was, Ryan was sporting a little boy erection, but I chose to ignore that. Initially I'd been thinking I might tickle him even down there, but in hindsight, I didn't think I was ready to cross that line yet. He _was_ still 11 after all. Some things should wait until he was older.

Well, needless to say, things were never the same after that. Ryan and I never talked about it during the week, and we _certainly_ never talked about it to anyone else. But every so often on a day when he didn't have school and my husband wasn't home, I would wake Ryan up with surprise tied-up tickles in bed. At first it was a sort of once-every-two-months fun time. By the time he was 12, it was once every month. By the time he was 13, it was once every other week. And before he was 14, it had started begging me to do it every single Saturday. I think Ryan was a very early bloomer. I caught him masturbating after sessions when I was out of the room shortly before he turned 15.

And yet in spite of that, and in spite of the fact that I always stripped him naked while tickling him-and even started doing the same myself-I never touched him down there. The closest I got to touching him sexually was focusing on his nipples, sometimes while kissing his cheeks or forehead. They were his most ticklish spot by far and left him in stitches no matter how I abused them, but they were also an erogenous zone and I knew he was starting to want more. But he was afraid to ask, and I... Some part of me was afraid to cross that final line.

I'm not an idiot. I knew how far gone I was by now. I was lusting after my own son, and I knew he was also lusting after me. By age sixteen, my son was as hairy as his father, which was hot in its own way, but he seemed to know I liked him better smoother, or maybe he felt more ticklish smooth, so he borrowed my shaver and used it make his body baby smooth every Friday night before bed. And I knew that included the hair around his groin. I knew he was shaving it on purpose in the hopes I'd touch him there. I knew, and it scared me. Our relationship had long past the bounds of what was healthy for a parent and child. In fact, in hindsight, I guess it wouldn't be a stretch to say that I had traumatized and brainwashed him into this during the most delicate time of his life, just as I was. That guilt kept me from going that final step for a long, long time...

Then, one hot summer day on Ryan's 17th birthday, while once again his father was unfortunately overseas fighting the good fight, Ryan and I got into a fight. It was a little silly, really. I asked him what he wanted to do for his birthday, and he took this super dramatic deep breath and said, "Mom, I want to fuck."

Let me tell you, I knew this day was coming, but I never expected it would come so… bluntly. I reeled in surprise for a minute, asking him to repeat himself, which he did, word for word. I tried to play it off as a joke and suggest something else, but he interrupted me with those exact same words a third time to make sure I knew he was both extremely serious and dead set on this.

In hindsight, the fact that he was coming onto me so hard and I was so hesitant is hilarious considering how all of this started. If he wasn't so well-groomed for the sub role, I'd say he'd suddenly felt like he was trying to become the master-or the "Mommy" we would say-of our sex games. The more I tried to dodge or refuse, the more resolute his replies got, and finally he yelled at me, "Do you think I'm an idiot?! I'm 17! I know how this stuff works! I don't care that you're my mom. Maybe I do care that you practically raped me to make me this way, but… I can't stop feeling these things anymore! I want you and you want me, so stop treating me like a fucking kid! We're way past that bullshit!"

It was only then I realized this was probably the result of Ryan's rebellious phase. Funny it hadn't been a problem sooner. But like any teen, Ryan wanted what his parents weren't giving him, regardless of whether or not it was good for him. And that, in this case, was sex. Strange how things work out sometimes.

Let me explain something to you parents out there. A teen in his rebellious phase gets what he wants. By force if need be. The only two ways to deal with someone like that are to find a way to change what he wants or just give it to him. Well, maybe that's just an excuse I made up after the fact to justify what happened next, but… Okay, so sue me; I absolutely refused to have him fight me to the point of rape. If we were having sex, then we were having sex my way, with Ryan all tied up beneath me as he should be.

So, reluctantly, I bound him to the bed and prepared for the next session. Knowing what was about to happen next, I almost felt like I was looking at him for the first time. Ryan had his father's face, eyes and muscles, but my black hair. And like I said before, he was shaved silky smooth. His manhood was also large-larger than his father's by this point. Must come from somewhere on my side of the family. All the while as I cuffed him, he stared at me with a stern expression, almost as if he was saying, "You better make me cum this time, woman," with his eyes.

Finally, with him all strapped in, I took a deep sigh of relief. There was a powerful pressure in the air between us, but knowing that he was tied down reinvigorated my sense of dominance. Yes, that's right, _I_ was the dom here, not him. And as such… "You want sex so badly? Fine then, you naughty boy." Like a switch being flipped, I recovered my cocky, teasy persona. I turned turned to the table of tickle-tools that we left lying out in the open next to the bed and picked up a hairbrush, stroking it lovingly and delivering my ultimatum. "However, it's not good for a 'lee to try to boss around a 'ler. I'm going to have to punish you for that _severely_ first."

"No, please, not the brush! I'm sorry Mommy, I'll never do it again." His begging sounded and looked quite genuine, the results of many years of practice. I knew that he loved it, but he in turn knew that I loved it when he begged, and better still, that I loved to make him switch what he was begging for mid-session multiple times. In other words, if his goal was to make me want to fuck him, it was working.

But that would be later. For now, I had a date with Ryan's feet. I brought the brush down with me to the foot of the bed and sat down. I wiggled it in the air over them where Ryan could see. He shook his head. I nodded mine. He shook his again harder. I nodded and lowered the brush to his sole.

And then, I started scrubbing.

The laughter was loud and instantaneous. "AAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOOOOOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!" Yes, yes, yes, I loved this! I utterly loved driving my son wild! I loved the way his body shook and jerked. I loved the way his foot would try and fail to slip out of my grip. I loved the sound of the helpless, pleading laughter coming out of his mouth, which could only be increased further by one method I knew of. I loved the feeling of just _crushing_ his foot's nerves with the full force of the brush. And I loved the way his penis flipped and flopped about with his jerking, trying so very hard to get my attention.

Oh, and of course, there was one more thing I loved. "Tiiickle, tickle, tickle! You've been such a bad boy! You need more tickles, don't you? Yes you do! Mommy's going to tickle you _aaallll_ day!" I loved to tease him. Honestly, I think that was the only part he _didn't_ like anymore. Ryan didn't really like being talked-down to anymore; he wanted to think of himself as a big strong man. But I was sure it turned him on anyway, and today I took it a step further. "You want to marry Mommy? You want to have sex with Mommy? Aw, but to Mommy, you're her cute little ticklish baby!"

"FUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUCK THAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAT!"

The exclamation took me by surprise. I didn't think he'd be able to talk while I was tickling him this hard. I figured it was worth a reward, so as swiftly as I could, I rushed back over to the table, switched tools and jumped up on Ryan's stomach. Now bringing two paintbrushes down toward his nipples, I rebuked, "What was that? What did you just say to Mommy? Did you just swear at Mommy?" Ryan shook his head vehemently, perhaps worried that I wouldn't give him what he asked for if he made me too mad. But I wasn't mad. I was practically in heat, and a voice in my head was saying, _It is time._ "Then… were you asking Mommy to fuck you?"

At this point, at surprised Ryan by twisting around and applying the brushes slowly to the one part of his body I'd always reverently left untouched. They both started brushing over his shaft, one going up to twist around on the tip, the other going down until it started playing with his ballsack. Ryan gasped, then giggled, then laughed, then moaned, and finally screamed the most genuine plea I think I'd ever heard from him during one of our sessions. "FUCK! YES! PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEASE FUCK MEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE MOMMYHEHEHEHEHEHE!"

That one phrase passed through me like a jolt of electricity. Why were we not having sex again? Because of legality? Morality? Did I really care about either of those things at this point? No, no I did not, and having thusly "justified" my next course of action, I pulled up my skirt, pulled down my panties, and went down on my son. I felt his big, meaty cock filling me up and heard him let out a loud, satisfied moan at the sensation he'd wanted so long. _I'm doing it. I'm having sex with my son._ The words flitted through my mind, and I felt… no guilt whatsoever.

Whatever fear and hesitation that lingered snapped and broke, and I lifted the brushes again greedily. "Alright, my little boy, time for Mommy's new series of lessons: how to ticklegasm properly."

"No, please, save me," he responded much more sarcastically than normal. Well, that ticked me off a bit, so I wasted no time dropping the brushes down to his nipples and turning him into a bucking, blubbering mess. He thrust, and thrust, and thrust in the midst of his struggles like a wild animal, and I loved every second of it because I, Francine McKarthy, am a happily married soldier's wife with tickling obsession who's deeply in love with my son.

...

P.S. I learned two very important lessons that day. My son was a quick shot, which frustrated me like I can't begin to describe. And he becomes so ridiculously ticklish on his balls after cumming that it makes up for it a hundredfold. Still, I think I may need to train him to hold his orgasm longer so I can enjoy it properly. Maybe next time I'll deny him for a few hours?...


	4. Virtual Tickle Hell 2

**And here we have a 2500-word commission for horrible-Username yet again (I seem to get a lot of repeat customers). And once again to absolutely no one's surprise, he wanted a story of Chiaki Nanami from Danganronpa in an absolute ticklish hell. Not that I'm complaining; I love tickling the cum out of her and took to this story with great joy. Not to mention that h-U gave me so much detail about how he wanted the story to go that it might as well have written itself, which made my job very easy. Or well, almost very easy-the task of trying to fit it all within the word count goal proved a bit difficult, but more than worth it.**

**This one wasn't actually signed off on when I first posted it. "I have another commission lined up so I can't wait indefinitely for him to tell me "Yay" or "Nay", so I'm just going to assume it's done until and unless he says otherwise," is what I was thinking. And there was one more detail in need of tweaking, but the tweak has been tweaked and now it's officially done this time. **

**...Took me too long to remember to update this message so that it said this ^ instead of "It might not be done yet." XD  
**

* * *

**Virtual Tickle Hell 2**

"No! No plehehehehease! Not agahahahahahahain!" For what felt like the thousandth time, Chiaki fell to the floor. A Mouzoid had tackled her from the side while running past a side tunnel and dug its scratchy claws and spinny brush fangs into her sides while the feathery tail toyed with her navel. She weakly tried to pull it off and throw it away, but she didn't have the strength for it at this point. Or perhaps she really wasn't trying because she knew it was hopeless.

After all, in the next instant, 10 more Mouzoids had pounced on her.

Chiaki's limbs gave up the fight and she collapsed, splayed out in a submissive heap, unable to even try to guard any of her tickle spots. And the Mouzoids took advantage of it. Their tails pulled between her toes, through her ass and pussy slits, between and around her breasts. Their claws scratched and dug into her thighs and soles and belly and ribs and sides. Their buzzy, spinny fangs targeted the most sensitive regions of all: her armpits, her nipples, her navel. One of them even had her clit pinched between its two "teeth", forcing her to cum again and again through her laughter as the brushes tormented her sex button with the worst pinpoint precision possible.

How long had this gone on? Chiaki had no ability to tell time in here. The closest thing she had to a clock was the number of Mouzoids currently running around the maze. Every time she tried to take a break or was tortured to the point of being unable to move, their numbers multiplied. Even now, more were coming to join the swarm already torturing her. There must've been at least 20 by now. The only reason she wasn't being tortured by all of the Mouzoids of the maze ad infinitum already was-

"Aaaalright, that's long enough. Back to running. Run, run, little prisoner! Run until you fall again! Kyaaaahahahahahaha!"

That was why. The whim of the Monokuma-eyed game master, checking in every so often from somewhere outside the maze. Chiaki's suffering and her futile efforts to escape from it amused him. Enough so that he would eventually turn off all the Mouzoids and maze traps long enough for her to recover and get some distance. He was like a cat toying with its dinner, intentionally releasing and recapturing and torturing her for his amusement.

Tears streamed down the gamer girl's face as she recovered from the latest session. "Hajime… please save me…" she mumbled, but relying on others to rescue her wouldn't accomplish anything. If she just lay there panting until the madman turned the traps back on, she'd have 23 Mouzoids already poised to continue where they left off, and she knew for a fact that there were at least a dozen more wandering the maze somewhere-it wouldn't be the first time she'd rolled over and given up only to be tortured worse than she was when she tried running away.

Besides, she absolutely refused to believe that this was game over for her. Somewhere, somehow, there had to be another way out of this dungeon. One exit had been sealed, but surely there was usable exit somewhere. So, groaning through her exhaustion, Chiaki pealed and threw off the inactive Mouzoids and stumbled away from them as fast as wobbly legs would allow.

Along the way, she subconsciously toyed with her pussy. She was so ashamed, but she couldn't stop herself. The traps here were designed to do more than just tickle her; they all made her irresistibly horny, and they all seemed to cut off while she was on the verge of cumming. As a result, she always had to start each break with masturbation, no matter how much she tried to resist and focus on escape. This time was no different, she walked as far as she could in that situation, but was quickly forced to lean against a wall with her legs spread and stroke herself off once more.

Chiaki's face was covered with tears and was as red as an apple. She shook off the sense of violation invading her mind as best she could and resumed looking for a way out, but a part of her was wishing she was dead. If she were a real human rather than a program, she certainly would be by now. But she wasn't real. She didn't have human limitations. It made her an ideal…

Just as a truly disturbing thought tried to plant itself in her mind, Chiaki spotted a door ahead. There hadn't been many doors in this dungeon, and any time she did find one it provided her some small degree of salvation. After all, the Mouzoids couldn't open doors, so they'd have to find a long way around to get to her. Clinging to that hope-to stall for just a little more time before her suffering would reach maximum levels again-she rushed toward it as quickly as jelly-feeling legs would carry her and passed through.

"...Sunlight?"

It was too good to be true.

On the other side of the door, she'd found a large room, and pouring in through the other side of the room, she could see a rising or setting sun-she knew not which. After so long in the cold, poorly illuminated darkness of the dungeon, it was a truly heart wrenching sight. She rushed around the table in the room towards that light, praying that if she just left the building, that would be the same as winning the game.

"...No… Wait… This is wrong… I think…" Chiaki's gamer sense, ever functional throughout her ordeal because of the sheer depth of her Ultimate talent, screamed at her that this was too easy. Not to mention the table. The table that she'd just sidestepped was far too conspicuous. And now that she stopped and thought about it more carefully, the sunlight itself was weird, wasn't it? It seemed to be too red, even for a sunset.

Taking a closer look, she realized the sunlight was being filtered through a red… something. Like a force field. Which means that passing through it probably wouldn't be that simple. "In that case… what about the table?" Finally walking over to take a close look at it for the first time, she saw that there was a glass of water and two small, corked glass bottles containing identical pills on them resting on top.

Suddenly there was a sound like a doorbell ringing, and the voice of the man responsible for all of this rang out once more. "Time for the old Battle of Wits challenge! As you've guessed, you found the secret exit! Congratulations! But finding it and being able to use it are two different things."

"How does this level work?" Chiaki asked, cutting him off. She wanted him to just drop the theatrics and explain already. The sooner she escaped, the better.

"So hasty…" the voice mumbled before regaining its apparent pleasure. "But that's fine; I'd rather get the show on the road anyway. As I'm sure you've noticed, there is a barrier preventing you from leaving the dungeon. It won't kill you if you touch it, but you can't just pass through either. That's where the puzzle on the table comes in. One of the pills-"

"One of the pills will let me walk through?" Chiaki cut him off again. It was a common trope in the dungeon crawlers she'd played. "But what does the other one do? Normally, that one would be poison, but…"

The voice paused for a moment, grumbling something too quietly to be heard before answering her question in a somewhat strained tone. "Thaaaat one is contains a surprise. I won't spoil the details, but let's just say if you take the wrong pill… It's game over.

"Watching you run around aimlessly has been fun and all, but if I keep letting you go after catching you, sooner or later you'll start clinging to the hope of release. That's no good; sooner or later to achieve optimal despair, you need to be trapped permanently. That's what will happen if you fail now. No more second chances, no more games, that's it, the end. Also, you're on a five minute time limit, so choose quickly."

The voice had claimed that there would be any more tries several times already, but this time, Chiaki heard something in his voice-a note of sincerity that wasn't there before. So she analyzed the pills carefully to discern a clue to determine the answer. "There's… no difference between them at all, though…" she finally mumbled.

"That's right!" the voice chimed in again. "It's a game of chance. Fifty-fifty odds. Nothing more. Nothing less."

"In that case… nothing to do but go for it… I think." She could decide not to decide at all, but the clock would just run out that way. Better to choose incorrectly than to choose nothing, she figured. But the moment she swallowed the pill, she could feel that she'd made a mistake. Her body felt like it was on fire. The heat in her chest, the ache in her body… she felt a powerful, sexual need to be tickled. "Oh no…" she mumbled, her face flushed and her legs threatening to give out beneath her. She reached out instinctually to try to satisfy the throbbing sensation of her clit and nipples, but much to her shock-"YEEheehahahahaha!"-that tickled. It actually tickled for her to rub her own erogenous zones even a little. And on top of that, with the affect being so severe, she couldn't force her fingers to stop; she was thrust into a hell where her own body wouldn't listen to her cries for mercy.

"AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! I can't believe you fell for it!" The voice cackled maniacally as holes opened up in the walls and mechanical arms started stretching out. "There was no right answer! Both of the pills were aphrodisiac drugs!" The table morphed, throwing off it's remaining contents and shifting to an slanted bondage frame. "And on top of that, the water wasn't water either! It was a chemical solution that reacts with the drug to increase the effects a thousand-fold!" Chiaki tried to run away, but her hungry, hungry body wouldn't obey her commands and four of the bonds easily grabbed her and started strapping her down to the table. "I was telling the truth about one thing though: this really is game over for you. It's time for your… reprogramming…"

There was a pop over the speaker system as though power to it had been suddenly cut and the door to the room flew wide open. The mechanical arms closed in on Chiaki, and though she hoped, prayed, wished with all her heart that this was just another bluff and she would be released soon… she knew she wouldn't.

Then, true hell began.

It started with the mechanical limbs stretching out from the walls. Attached to the end of each on was a different tool-fuzzy hands; feathers, dusters and brushes of every variety; odd tools like forks and buzzy rods and what appeared to be a small stuffed animal. One of them even carried over a blindfold so that she wouldn't be able to see where the tools would be placed or might move. No expense was spared, not spot left untickled. From her armpits down to her feet she was covered in tickle tools. Except for her private spots; her vagina and breasts alone were left untouched.

But it didn't matter.

The effects of the aphrodisiac were so potent that even as Chiaki laughed and laughed louder and longer than any human lungs were capable of, she also came. She orgasmed hard merely from being tickled and body accordingly became more sensitive. That increased sensitivity led to another orgasm. And another. And another. The aphrodisiac had forcefully equated tickling with sexual pleasure to the point that she couldn't stop cumming, yet as an AI, no matter how many times she came or how hard she laughed, she could neither die nor faint. She couldn't even struggle because the drug had rendered her body completely submissive, welcoming the sensations willingly and even leaning into the most effective ones even though it was breaking her mind.

And that was all just within the first two minutes. As she lay there, laughing and crying and believing that, if nothing else, at least it couldn't get worse, it did. From the open door, the swarm of Mouzoids returned, even more numerous than before. There must've been at least thirty of them now, though there might've been more-Chiaki was judging by feel rather than sight. And yet there was no logical way the sensations she was feeling could be real. Perhaps the space in this area of the program was distorted to allow it, or perhaps it was cloned and she was experiencing sensations across multiple bodies at once. Whatever the case, every single Mouzoid found a perch despite there being no room for them to do so, drilling with their brush-fangs, tickling with their claws and swishing around their feathery tails. And unlike the mechanical limbs, they had no sense of privacy. Each of her pink nubs, nipple and clit alike, was pinched between a pair of tiny spinning brushes, forcing her to cum harder than humanly possible again and again, over and over. It was the greatest sensation in the world, yet simultaneously the most hellish one.

The only part of Chiaki left that remained unviolated was the deepest depths of her mind, where she continued to hate everything about this. But even that was to be stripped away from her. One final mechanical arm snaked its way over to her. This one was very different; it looked like some horrific needle device as it approached her forehead, opened it up and passed through.

No, she wasn't pierced or cut open in any typical gory sense. It was more like a hole had appeared revealing her programming code where her brain should be. The needle when inside and started tapping on numbers, changing 0s to 1s and 1s to 0s. And with it, Chiaki felt something inside her start to shift.

What was wrong with all of this anyway? Was it wrong because she was being tickled? No, she craved being tickled. It was hell and she loved it. Was it wrong because she was being violated? No, she craved being violated. Yes, she wanted to be violated more. Was it wrong because of who was doing it? No, of course not. Why should that matter? As long as it tickled and made her cum, nothing else mattered.

Was it wrong because she wanted to see her friends again?

…

Having finished its job, the needle-arm pulled back along with all the others and the Mouzoids. Her restraints were released, and Chiaki collapsed to the floor. "Wha?... huff, huff… Why?" She ripped off the blindfold to see one of the Mouzoids gesturing with its tail to two buttons that had appeared next to her on the table. On one was written the words, "Escape! (For real this time!)" and on the other "Tickle Forever!"

Chiaki the Ultimate Gamer wouldn't hesitate. Chiaki the Ultimate Gamer would escape this hell. Chiaki the Ultimate Gamer would seize this last chance, regardless of how slim the odds of it being legit were. For herself. For her friends. The Ultimate Gamer would never accept this.

But Chiaki couldn't really be called the Ultimate Gamer anymore. As she slammed a fist down on "Tickle Forever!" she morphed into something else: The Ultimate Tickle Toy.


	5. An Innocent Fetish

**Twenty. Thousand. Words.**

**I just finished a twenty. Thousand. Word commission. I'm exhausted, and so very, very happy to be done with it, and yet... I cannot deny the incredible sense of accomplishment this makes me feel.**

**What we have here is a commission for a DA user called AVL01. He wanted a story about Wendy Marvel from Fairy Tail experiencing early-puberty tickle fetish with a boy the same age. More specifically, one that would be better than another commission he'd placed that was written by someone who didn't quite get the point. To be fair, whether or not I did as well as he'd hoped is something I'm still not sure of myself, but I _do_ know that I love the way this turned out. **

**I was given a lot of creative liscense with this one, far more so than with my other commissions to date, which made it both more difficult to write and also more fun and personal. The question of innocence and where the line between it and something more is is something I had a lot of fun exploring in this story. Besides, I've been wanting to tickle Wendy for a long time anyway; she's one of my top 10 waifus. And... to be completely honest I created the love interest-Carn-as a stand-in OC for myself. Though he evolved into his own as a character over the course of the story. I hope you all enjoy reading his and Wendy's coming-of-age love story as much as I enjoyed writing it.**

* * *

**An Innocent Fetish**

The city of Magnolia in the Kingdom of Fiore, a quiet and peaceful place to live, save for the wild and rambunctious wizard guild at its center. It is here that our story would normally begin. But a strange event occured recently that pulled every member of Fairy Tail out of Magnolia by force and sent them not only into a separate country, but to a completely different world: Edolas. And that… is where our story diverges from what you know. Because in an alternate time, things did not happen the way you remember. For after a hole opened up in the sky and the entire Fairy Tail guild vanished, its newest member, Wendy Marvell, was separated from her companions while flying through the Anima en route to Edolas when the group was attacked by unknown assailants. Now completely alone, Wendy finds herself in the middle of who-knows-where with no idea how to reunite with her comrades. And that is where this story begins.

* * *

"Carlaaaa! Natsuuuu!" A teary-eyed young girl wandered through a dark, fog-infested landscape that seemed to go on endlessly. Initially her calls had been quiet and choked, but as she grew more and more terrified, they became loud and desperate. "Lucyyyy! Happyyyy! Anyoooone!" There was no response. The void seemed to devour her cries as well as everything else. Her nose, for example, couldn't pick up anyone's scent, and she became deathly terrified that even Natsu wouldn't be able to track her through the Anima.

With no other recourse, the girl walked and walked and walked. "Please… please don't leave me here…" She was on the verge of losing hope and collapsing to the ground when she caught a glimmer of light ahead. "Natsu?!" She ran toward that light, praying to find the dragon slayer's fire at the end of it, but instead she emerged from the fog into daylight. "Where… where is this place?..." Wendy had emerged into what appeared to be a sleepy village of some sort. The Anima had disappeared behind her, and there was no sign that anyone nearby had noticed anything out of the ordinary.

The village was a quaint place. Under other circumstances, she probably would've thought it a lovely sight. There were only a few people scattered about, but they all had smiles on their faces, waving to each other as they went about their daily business. If anyone knew of any sort of ongoing crisis-such as a randomly appearing or disappearing wizard guild-no one here seemed to be concerned about it.

That, however, did nothing to reassure the young girl. It only reaffirmed to her that she was well-and-truly lost. That feeling mingled with the feeling of relief at having escaped from the Anima and produced guilt at daring to feel happy for herself while her friends could be in danger. Her buckling knees finally gave way, and she collapsed to the ground in the middle of the road through the village, crying loudly as all the loneliness and fear poured out of her at once.

"Are you alright?" After she had laid there for some time, a young boy around the same age as her approached. He had bright blue eyes and short green hair. His appearance was disheveled but not unpleasant, the mark of a boy from a poor family who nonetheless tried to take care of himself. He wore a faded red shirt and purple shorts that looked ripped at the knees like they might've once been proper pants.

Wendy was immediately consumed with embarrassment. Crying out in public like this… she must've looked ridiculous. "Y-y-yes, I'm f-fine," she lied, wiping the tears away and sitting up. "I'm just a b-b-bit lost."

The boy held out a hand with a small smile on his face. "Well, maybe I can help you. I know this village pretty well." He said it like he knew she wasn't from here, but that only made sense. This place gave off the sort of everybody-knows-everybody vibe that would cause a person to recognise someone out-of-place.

"Oh, no, y-y-you don't have to…" The dragon slayer didn't want to cause random trouble for a stranger and started to politely decline, but she caught herself when she realized that sooner or later if she wanted to reunite with her friends, she would have to ask someone for help eventually. So after mulling it over for a moment, she changed her answer with a bow. "...I mean… Yes, please, I really need it."

"Of course!" the boy responded. "It's no problem at all!" His hand was still hanging in the air, and he didn't move it until Wendy looked up with an apologetic smile and took it, letting him help her to his feet.

What Wendy didn't know-couldn't have known-was that the boy's gesture was not done out of any gentlemanly kindness. Certainly when he'd seen an unknown girl crying in the middle of the street, he _had_ wanted to help her-that was no lie. But there was another, ulterior motive. Wendy was currently wearing her trademark sleeveless green dress (yes, she was wearing that at the beginning of the Edolas arc; I checked), having not yet seen any need or reason to switch into the long-sleeved red disguise she would have later adopted had things not gone awry in this timeline. The boy had noticed this, and though he felt guilty for doing it, he stared at the girl's shoulder as she reached up to take his hand, hoping to catch a glimpse of what was underneath, but alas, her arm did not stretch up high enough for that.

What he noticed instead was the mark on it-a truly infamous mark in Edolas. "Fairy Tail…?!" he mumbled under his breath, wide-eyed.

The blue-haired girl's breath caught, and she suddenly grabbed the boy's hand with both of hers as if pleading with him. "You know my guild?! Do you know where they a-MPH?!"

But the boy cut her off by shoving his other hand over her mouth and shushing her. "Are you nuts?!" he half-whispered, half-yelled. Then with a paranoid look around, he positioned himself to hide the mark on her arm from anyone else who might be nearby. "You can't just let everyone see that symbol! Are you trying to get arrested?!"

Wendy gave him a frightened, mystified look. She, of course, had no idea what he was talking about, but it sounded like the boy was worried about her for some reason. So she didn't resist his rough treatment despite how much the sudden change in his demeanor scared her.

The boy, in turn, moved the hand away from her mouth and over to her back instead. "Come on, this way. You need to get somewhere more private. Come to my house for a bit, okay?" When the girl nodded, choosing to trust the sincerity in his tone, the boy led her to a nearby home, staying close to her shoulder and continuing to hide it with his body as much as possible until they opened the door and went inside.

Like the rest of the village, the house was a modest little place, far from extravagant and with a general air of being run-down yet also lived-in and homely. The few furnishings, such as they were, were marked up with generations worth of family affection, such as the table with a toddler's drawings on it and the support-beam covered with growth-markings. Nor was there a scrap of dust to be found anywhere despite the fact that everything looked like it could fall apart at a moment's notice.

Wendy had just barely registered this when the door closed behind her and the boy let out a loud sigh of relief. "Seriously, what's wrong with you?" he asked tiredly. "You can't just broadcast that you belong to a Dark Guild in public."

"Dark Guild?! What?!" Wendy, completely unable to process the discrepancy between the boy's words and her experience, demanded an explanation. And thus began a somewhat lengthy conversation where the two exchanged information about long-term plot.

To summarize for those of you in the real world who've long forgotten the story of Fairy Tail's adventures in Edolas, in this world all Wizard Guilds were forbidden. The Fairy Tail of this world was, as a result, technically a dark guild because guilds as a rule weren't supposed to exist. The reason for this was because magic was a limited resource in Edolas, and as such, none were supposed to use it without the government's express permission. But Fairy Tail remained as the only guild to still use magic in defiance of governmental authority, and thus, the only Dark Guild in Edolas.

Hence, it was highly dangerous for a person with a Fairy Tail tattoo on her shoulder to go wandering around in public wearing a sleeveless dress.

Wendy in turn explained everything about her situation to the boy. About how she and the version of Fairy Tail she belonged to were from a completely different world, and that her guild had been essentially kidnapped because of some nefarious scheme. It was comparatively a much harder story to accept than the one the boy had told her, but when she demonstrated that she could use magic without magic tools, he had no choice but to believe her.

This is, of course, a gross oversimplification of how the conversation progressed. In reality, Wendy was so distraught over being alone in a world that apparently hated her that she broke down crying twice. Finally, the boy got up, raised a fist and declared, "Don't worry! I, Carn Checkerton, will do everything I can to help you find your friends and get home!"

The pose was silly, the statement corny, but his passion and sincerity got through to the dragon slayer. Her sad face shifted into a smile, a small and tearful one but the first she'd had since arriving in this world. "Thank you so much!"

Carn was taken by that smile for a minute, feeling his heart throb. But a moment later, he heard the front door opening-by this point they were sitting it was passed for the living room-and exclaimed as quietly as he could, "Uh, oh, my parents! If they find you here, they'll report you!" He took her hand quickly and half-led, half-dragged her away. "Quick, this way! Hide in the attic!"

A voice called out from a separate room, "Carn, is that you?"

"Yeah, mom," he called back, getting on a chair and opening a door in the ceiling to let down a staircase. "I'm just, uh, playing with some toys."

"Well, wrap it up, we're going to have dinner soon," the mother called back.

Wendy rushed up the stairs at Carn's urging, and the door closed behind her with the boy adding, "They're gone most of the day, so I'll come get you tomorrow."

From there, Wendy spent a long night in that dark room. It was not uncomfortable-there happened to be a bed up there-but it was very lonely. She cried herself to sleep that night and was very hungry up until Carn opened the door and came up again the next morning.

"I brought food!" he declared, showing off some bread, eggs and bacon that looked quite high quality compared to everything else in the house. "My mom's the best, and I've learned a lot about how to cook from her."

Wendy accepted the plate and silverware without any particular joy, but when she put the bread to her mouth, she perked up. "Oh wow, this is delicious!" She gobbled it all down with the widest smile she'd had thus far, leaving the cook quite pleased with himself.

When she was finished, he gestured over to the stairs. "Come on; you shouldn't be up here all day." As they walked back to the living room, Carn asked, "So… how are we going to find your friends? Do you have a plan?"

"Well…" Wendy said, putting a hand to her chin as she sat down next to him on the old but very comfy couch. "I suppose the first thing I need to do is change my outfit to something with long sleeves. "She looked down at her shoulder, lifting her arm up and in the process giving Carn his first view of what was underneath.

The boy's heart skipped a beat at the sight, and although he knew she was right, he was filled with a selfish desire not to let her change out of that dress. "B-but, you look so-I mean, that _dress_ looks cute on you." He quickly said, his face reddening as he forced out the first not-quite-wrong-but-not-fully-honest thing that came to mind.

"Eh?" The young dragon slayer's face in turn also reddened, caught off-guard by the surprise compliment. "I, um, I mean, thank you, but I don't think it's really _that_ cute," she said bashfully raising her hand up higher to scratch the back of her head. This motion, though, only made her armpit even more visible, and Carn got a bit of a nosebleed from it. "Besides, that's not really as important as staying safe right?"

It's important to note here that there were no girls Carn's age in the entire village, let alone any as cute as Wendy, nor was it common for people to wear sleeveless outfits. Without knowing or meaning too, the blue-haired girl was striking home runs on all the qualities Carn had secretly wished for but rarely had. The only thing that could make this better…

But no, wait, if she changed into an outfit with sleeves, there would never be an opportunity to even try that. Shaking himself out of his reverie, Carn almost shouted. "E-e-even so, you shouldn't have to wear something like… well like what we have here. At least let me find you something better first." Then suddenly bumping his fist down on his palm, he changed the subject. "Wait, hold on, forget the clothes for a moment. How would you find your friends anyway? Do you know where to start looking?"

Wendy looked down with a shake of her head. "I thought I might be able to just smell them out, but I'm not as good with my nose as Natsu. ...Honestly, it might be better to just wait until he finds me."

_!_

"Yeah, sure, that works!" Carn immediately latched onto that idea. "You'll be safe here until your friends arrive, I guarantee it!"

"But the last time I saw them, they were being attacked." The girl's expression started to darken, and her shoulders trembled. "What if… what if they're in trouble? What if they get captured or killed?"

"Hey, no, I didn't…" the boy looked away and rubbed his head. He hadn't meant to make her cry again. And now… now he could only come up with one idea for how to cheer her up, and his reason for _why_ the idea came to him made him feel guilty. But he didn't have a better plan. So he sucked in a deep breath and-

"TICKLE ATTACK!"

The green-haired boy suddenly tackled her sideways on the couch. Before Wendy could complain, he already had her his fingers digging into her sides, sending her from tears to giggles instantly. "Hehehehey! Stop thahahahat!" Wendy grasped at the hands and tried to yank them away, but Carn reversed it on her, grabbing them instead and pulling them up over her head.

Normally, this probably wouldn't be possible-as a trained wizard and dragon slayer, Wendy was more familiar with physically strenuous activity than Carn-but it was different while being tickled. Wendy was the type of person whose body turned to mush during tickling, rendering physical resistance difficult despite her superior strength, and the more intense the tickling was, the harder it became to fight back.

As a result of all this, the two of them had wound up in what would be a most scandalous position if they were older. Wendy was on her back, arms forcefully held overhead, panting with tear-stained cheeks and staring up at the boy looming over her like a predator after pouncing on its prey. But Carn wasn't thinking about how it might look. He simply stared her in the eye and asked, "Do you trust your friends?"

"Do I… trust them?" Wendy asked, slightly dazed by how assertive the boy was being and not comprehending the question as a result.

"Like, um, are they really strong," Carn tried again, this time getting a slight nod out of Wendy. "Then there's nothing to worry about. They'll be fine. And they'll find you."

His expression softened into a smile, and suddenly it was Wendy's turn for her heart to skip a beat. "...Thank you," she said, still dazed but feeling better.

"And that's why I'm not going to let you cry anymore," the boy continued, closing his blue eyes in an air of self-importance. "You look better smiling, and they'll want to see you smile when they get here, right? So I'll make you smile instead… even if I have to do it by force." Opening one eye with a mischievous grin, as if he'd just pulled off the most clever prank in the world, he let go of Wendy's wrists only to shove his fingers into her armpits.

Wendy went ballistic.

"YEEAAAHAHAHAHA! THAHAHAHAHAT'S NOHOHOHOHOHOT FAHAHAHAHAHAHAIR EEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE!" Her arms shot down immediately trapping Carn's fingers beneath them, but she couldn't get them out as long as he had her pinned like this. Of course, she could just throw him off with her magic, and it was getting harder and harder not to do exactly that, but she didn't want to hurt him. Ultimately, unable to resist physically and unwilling to do so magically, she simply lay there and let him do as he pleased to her.

Which is saying a lot because once he started Carn couldn't stop.

This feeling was… strange. The sight of Wendy, this utterly adorable, beautiful girl, laughing her head off, the feeling of her skin under her fingers and the sound-the _sound_-of her melodious, helpless begging were driving him utterly crazy like nothing he'd ever felt before. It made him all tingly all over, particularly in his little boy parts, but he didn't know why. Eventually, he started to feel a bit guilty, especially since he'd been at it for a good long while. So he reluctantly pulled his fingers out and leaned back into a kneeling position.

He watched her pant, her hands moving up to clutch her shoulders as her arms stayed pinned by her side. "...Sorry… I think I went overboard."

Wendy, eyes closed, answered honestly, "You did. _pant_ You did, but… I think I needed that." Opening her eyes, she smiled at him, widely and unforced. "Thanks for that."

Time seemed to stop for Carn as the image seared into his mind. Wendy was still speaking but his heart was fluttering too quickly to process what she was saying until she looked at him with concern and asked if he was alright. "Huh? Uh, yeah, just dozed off for a moment there. What did you say?"

"I said, I'd like to stay and wait for my friends here if that's alright."

* * *

Several days passed after that, and Wendy had a new nickname for the boy. She called him Tickle Monster Carn, though never to his face. The boy had a tendency to tickle her to the floor and keep her there for what felt like hours at least once each day. At first, he only did it when she looked sad. But later on, he started to look for excuses to do it. And today, he'd simply dropped all pretenses when she stretched her arms overhead on the couch and said it was time for her daily tickles when he rushed at them.

That was the other thing Wendy noticed, he always went for her armpits. At first, he'd mix it up with some belly tickles, and once he'd gone for her feet. But she'd managed to wiggle away while he was doing that more than once. As previously stated, Wendy was the sort of person whose ability to resist tickling dropped considerably the more intense it was, and of course since her armpits were her worst spot, tickling them essentially rendered escape impossible. Carn had caught onto this fact and gleefully relished the additional excuse to target his favorite spot over others. And on top of that, he was getting more skilled at it. Today, for example, he managed to sit on her arms so she couldn't cover her armpits and it tickled so _bad!_ "AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! YOHOHOUR TOOHOOHOOHOOHOO GOOHOOHOOHOOHOOD AT THIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIS!" She always complained as much as she possible because it really did tickle a lot, but even so, she couldn't stop it.

Or rather, she _could_ stop it with magic if she'd simply tried. She could do it easily. One burst of wind and _poof_ tickling over, just like that. But she always chose not too. She _allowed_ it to happen.

This confused Wendy to some degree. It wasn't that she enjoyed being tickled exactly. Or at least, she didn't think she did. It was torture and she wanted it to stop, didn't she? And yet for some reason,... she also didn't. When Carn was tickling her, she felt… oddly safe given the circumstances. There was this warm feeling that filled her body each time, and she, well, she liked to see how happy it made him, not to mention it really did help her stop thinking about how lonely and afraid she was in this world. In fact, if she were being _really_ honest with herself, the only reason she'd exposed her armpits this time was to see if he would tickle them. ...No, because she was _hoping_ he would.

And of course it worked like a charm because he was utterly entranced by them. They were so beautiful, so vulnerable, so ticklish… The sight of them drove him _crazy._ He kept feeling guilty after these sessions because he was afraid he'd go too far and do something he shouldn't-something that would make Wendy not like her. While he was tickling Wendy, he'd get these… _feelings._ He couldn't put the urges into words, but he was afraid of what would happen if he let them control him.

Today, finally, was the day he went one step further without thinking. While he was tickling Wendy's armpits, Carn found himself staring at her chest and wondering… could a girl's nipples be ticklish? Girls didn't show their nipples. They were a private spot. You weren't supposed to just touch them. Sure, but, if he slipped his hands into the dress through the armholes and just tickled around at random, it would be _his_ fault if his fingers just _happened_ to touch them, right?

The thought had occurred to him several times already, but this time, he couldn't shake it out of his mind. His fingers slid slowly down Wendy's armpits, under the dress and to her sides next to her undeveloped boobs. Her laughter didn't diminish at all, this spot apparently being just as ticklish as her armpits, and that caused her not to notice what he was doing, too concerned with how much it tickled to think about where his hands were going. But then, Carn's hands drifted inward, fondling the tiny mounds, and quickly zeroing in on the pink buds on top of them. "EEEE! HEHEHEHEHEY! WHAHAHAHAT?! WHAHAHAHAHAT AHAHAHAHARE YOHOHOHOHOHOU?!" It still tickled. It tickled so much that the dragon slayer felt like she might die. But it also made her feel warm in a very, very… _weird_ way, and that frightened her.

Up until now, Wendy hadn't bothered struggling. After realizing how much of a Tickle Monster Carn was, she'd subconsciously accepted that staying here meant getting tickled and thusly didn't put up much of a fight. But when the boy started touching a place he shouldn't, she forced her tickle-weakened body to buck around as much as possible, overcoming the debilitating status effect of the tickling with willpower. However she still lacked the strength to get away with him sitting on her arms. The only tangible effect the increased struggling had was to make her dress fall up her body, showing off her panties and navel. The panties in particular caught the boy's attention. Not just because he was seeing the underwear of the girl he was crushing on, though that was certainly part of it, but also because he could see a little wet spot on them. Why was that? Had she peed herself? But then, shouldn't there be more of it? He started puzzling over this important mystery of early adolescence and as such-

"SKYHYHYHYHY DRAHAHAHAHGON ROHOHOHOOOOAAAAR!"

He failed to realize that he had finally crossed the line where Wendy would not hesitate to use her magic to escape and got sent flying cartoonishly into the ceiling.

* * *

A couple minutes later, Carn was bowing deeply before Wendy as low as he could manage. The blue haired girl was clutching her chest and looking away with her cheeks puffed out. This was the first time the village boy had ever seen her angry, and honestly he couldn't help thinking even her pouty face was adorable. But he couldn't say that out loud right now because if he couldn't convince her she was sorry, she might leave.

At first, she'd been using healing magic and apologizing to him for sending him flying. But partway through her own apologies, Wendy remembered why she'd reacted so dramatically in the first place, and as if a switch had been flipped, the positions of prostrator and prostratee had turned around.

They stayed in that position for what felt like a full minute in silence. Right as it was starting to get awkward, Wendy sighed and spoke first. "Honestly, you can't just touch a girl's chest like that," she said.

"Yes, I know, I'm sorry, I got carried away," Carn said, his green-topped head still down on the floor.

"I mean, I knew you liked tickling a little too much, but still…"

Carn felt as if he'd been stabbed. On some level, he'd still been deluding himself into thinking that she didn't know he was intentionally looking for opportunities to tickle her. "Y-y-yes, you're right, I'm sorry I'm so weird…" he said, feeling like he didn't know whether to laugh or cry at how stupidly obvious he was.

"Although I suppose it's partly my own fault for not saying anything sooner." Thinking back on it, Wendy had never really done anything to discourage the boy from pushing the envelope. He'd acted and she'd went along with it, even thanking him for it afterwards on multiple occasions. "But still, you shouldn't really do that sort of thing without permission," she finished resolutely with a nod.

"Yes, you're right, I-" A light bulb went off in Carn's head right as he was on the verge of losing hope for any more fun with the dragon slayer in the future. She hadn't really said she didn't want him doing it _at all._ Only that she didn't want him doing it _without permission._ Initially he'd been about to say he'd never do it again, but deciding to push his luck one last time, he instead corrected himself. "I-I-I'll be sure to ask first from now on."

Wendy nodded satisfactorily- "Well, okay, that's good." -before noticing the discrepancy herself. The way he said he'd ask first… That made it sound like he still planned on tickling her and touching her breasts, right? The only difference was that he would request permission before doing it. But that wasn't something you could just ask a girl, right? So she should warn him not to bother, shouldn't she? Yes… that's exactly what she _should_ do… "A-a-as long as you don't surprise me like that anymore… then okay, I forgive you."

_...AHHHHHH, WHAT AM I SAYING?!_ The reality of what she was doing was not lost on Wendy. She didn't tell him "No, don't." The opposite, in fact, she'd essentially said, "Please do." Why? There could be only one reason. She _wanted_ him to keep going. Yes he had surprised her, and she'd wanted it to stop because he'd surprised her, but _only_ because he'd surprised her. When Carn was touching her, she'd felt something… strange, new, different. She didn't know what it was, but she… felt like she wanted _more_ of it, not less. The revelation that she apparently wanted a boy to play with her boobs shocked her enough to make her face beat red, and she started to enter denial mode. _No, that's not it, it's not like that. It's because, uh, because I didn't think anyone would like my boobs. Right, because they're so small! Ahh, that doesn't make me feel any better!_

While the dragon slayer got lost in the spiral of her own thoughts, the Edolian boy found himself in a similar quandary. _She didn't say, "No." So then, does that mean it would be okay if I asked? That would be so embarrassing! But… I really, really want to… Ahhh, what do I do?!_ Just because it might be okay to play with nipples if he asked her permission didn't mean that Carn was necessarily brave enough to do so. As he slowly lifted his gaze, his face was as red as Wendy's.

But it was precisely because he could see how red her face was that he made up his mind.

She was so cute. A literal angel. He couldn't contain himself when he was around her. It was impossible. But if he did something without permission, she might run away from him and never look back. That thought terrified him. At the very least, he didn't want Wendy to hate him when she left.

Carn took a deep breath, and with a trembling voice, he spoke. "I-I-In that case… M-m-ms. Wendy, I would like…" His breath caught as she looked over to him. What was she thinking with her face all red like that? Was she judging him? Was she preparing to yell at him? Was she planning to just say "No" this time and leave it at that? "...to… t-t-tickle your… boobs… please…" His words trailed off until they were mere mumbles, his face redder than a tomato, wondering what the hell he was thinking actually saying something so creepy out loud.

But Wendy didn't judge or yell or say "No" nor did she run. She looked away, bit her lip and clutched her shoulders. And then finally… "W-w-well… s-s-since you asked nicely…" She reached up to the spaghetti straps of her dress and pulled them down her shoulders, turning her back to Carn so he wouldn't see as she bashfully pulled her arms out of the dress, holding it up only with her hands and then started to lay down again. She stared up at him nervously, slowly lifting her arms away from her breasts, now covered by a dress that could easily be pulled down whether her arms were pinned or not, and laid them out on the floor behind her head where he could easily sit on them again if he wished.

Her face was as red as a tomato, and the display of willful vulnerability was so entirely surreal that Carn couldn't help staring. She looked like the most beautiful, adorable thing he'd ever seen. It almost seemed a shame to take advantage. But only almost. No matter how overawed he might've been, he couldn't change the fact that his fingers itched to touch her nor the heat between his legs demanding he do so for reasons unknown to him. And so, carefully, delicately, as if handling a priceless artifact, he resumed his position sitting on her arms. He reached out to the top of the dress, hesitated when Wendy closed her eyes and looked away, then proceeded to grab it and peel it back.

There before his eyes was a sight that seemed underwhelming in how ordinary it was. A chest, nipples, same as on any boy he'd ever seen. He didn't understand why women felt the need to hide them when men were willing to go topless. ...Well, that was what the _rational_ part of his brain thought. Yet in spite of that, he found that he couldn't look away. His eyes took in every detail about the two tiny breasts and the rock-hard pink buds on top. It was an odd contradiction of thoughts and instincts, possibly the result of his brain trying to convince him that this was no big deal even though he knew that it certainly was.

He reached out with his fingers and started to slowly caress the edge of the breasts, circling around the perimeter, not really trying to tickle but just taking in the sensation of touching them. Even that, though, was enough to make Wendy start tittering. "Hm. Hmhm. Eheeheehee. Oh no. This feels so weird ehehe." There was fire filling her she couldn't deny. It scared her, yes, but she also felt a _need_ to be touched more. So she didn't resist. In fact, the opposite. "Plehease, hurry up and tickle. This ihihis more embarrassing." She encouraged him to get on with it already.

The boy complied with the request, wiggling his fingers, slowly at first and then increasing speed. Wendy's titters turned to giggles, those giggles to chuckles, and those chuckles to laughs. "Ohohohohoho nohohohohoho! This, this ehehehehehehehehe feeheeheeheeheeheels sohohohohohoho weheheheheheheheheird!" She kept saying that, and yet still, she wasn't asking him to stop. Carn was emboldened by it. Yes, it was weird. But she liked it. And he liked it. So he picked up the pace even further and finally touched the gems at the peak of the little boobies. Instantly Wendy let out a shriek as if he'd touched her armpits. "NOHOHOHOHOHO, NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOT THEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERE! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHIHICKLES SO MUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUCH!"

She squirmed just a little bit at having this spot tickled, enough for her dress to ride up again, but her limbs quickly turned to jelly again and this time she didn't willpower her way through to struggle harder. Again her panties became visible along with the wet spot on them, and again Carn wondered about it, but he decided not to let it distract him-even he knew it was bad manners to ask about a girl's pee. Although the vague question of whether or not it might be connected to why _his_ secret spot felt weird lurked in the back of his mind.

Regardless, he shook it off and focused all his attention on Wendy's nipples. He wiggled his fingers against them, flicked them, pressed into them like bellybuttons and analyzed Wendy's reactions to each. The hopeless laughter was a constant no matter what he did, but there were yips and moans of surprise mixed in every time he switched tactics that he found amusing. He took back his initial thoughts at the sight of her boobs; there was _definitely_ something different, something _special_ about a girl's nipples that made them enchanting. They looked prettier, they felt prettier, they made Wendy laugh prettier…

_Wait… Is this what love feels like?_

The thought struck him suddenly, but he shook it off. Carn was too embarrassed to think about stuff like that. Plus, he thought, in his youthful naivety, that he'd felt love before and this was not it. But just as with his curiosity about the "pee", the thought continued to lurk in the back of Carn's mind as he drifted deeper and deeper into what any more experienced person would've declared "lust."

Wendy, on the other hand, had no idea what she was feeling at all at this point. Tickles, yes, that was true, but there was _more_. She felt butterflies in her stomach, and ache in her chest, and throb in her lower body. Did she need to go to the bathroom? She felt like she needed to go to the bathroom, but also… no, that… that wasn't right. The more Carn played with her breasts, the more she felt like something was happening, but she didn't know what. It was scary, but she also didn't want it to stop. She felt like she couldn't _let_ it stop-like she'd already passed some point of no return. So she laughed, those laughs mixed with moans, and her body started to move again, but not in the way a body struggles from tickles. Her back arched and thrust her chest outward, as if trying to press harder into the hands abusing it. Her legs spread wide, and she could feel her dress sliding further up her belly. She started to belatedly think that maybe this was going too far, and her begging started to reflect that. "CAHAHAHARN! CAHAHAHARN! WAHAHAHAHAHAIT! S-S-S-SLOHOHOHOHOHOW DOHOHOHOHOHON! PLEHEHEHEASE, I CAHAHAHAHAN'T AH, AHHH, I CAHAHAHAHAHAN'T-T-TAHHH!"

Carn in turn found it getting harder and harder to keep her arms pinned down. Out of nowhere, Wendy's body had found the strength to move, and he didn't know what to make of it. She wasn't trying to get away, but if she kept going like this, she would anyway. And he didn't want to let her escape without giving her a grand finally, so he started shifting his tickling fingers back and forth between her nipples and her armpits, causing the sensations to mingle and blur in the dragon slayer's mind.

_Something_ happened.

Wendy didn't know what it was, but… it felt _good._ Extremely good. Extremely strange, but extremely good.

But then it passed, and in its place. "EEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO! NOHOHOHOHOHOHO MOHOHOHOHOHOHOHORE! TOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOOHOO MUHUHUHUHUHUHUHUCH! CAHAHAHAHAHAHARN!" Something in her body seemed to submit more thoroughly than ever. Her limbs turned back into jelly and her arched, jumping body fell back down to the lay flat and still. As well it should because her ticklishness had skyrocketed. She didn't know why, she didn't know how, and at that moment, she didn't care. All she knew was that it _really, really tickled! _And she was ready for it to stop now.

Fortunately, Carn was paying closer attention to her words and actions this time. Seeing she was really asking to be let go, he pulled his hands away and got off of her, albeit reluctantly. Wendy panted, her face flushed. "Thank you," she said, glad that she didn't have to blow him away again. Though given the circumstances, it came across as her thanking him for the nipple tickles, which flustered Carn and caused him to look away.

"...More tomorrow?" he asked, unable to get more than two words out. His mouth felt dry and his hands felt sweaty, as if he was terrified of something. Why? Because he had crossed one of the lines on the path to adulthood, though he had no way of knowing that.

Wendy, by contrast, was feeling something… euphoric. Something had happened just now. Something that felt good. She didn't know what it was, and she was afraid something might be wrong with her. But… she didn't want to _not_ feel it again. So torn between the two desires-to press forward and to pull back-she gave a simple answer that was not an answer. "Maybe."

* * *

For a few days after that, nothing in particular happened between Carn and Wendy. They were filled with the guilt of children who'd gotten caught with their hands in the cookie jar. They had tasted something sweet and taboo, and because of that, it was hard for them to look each other in the eye, much less bring up the topic of tickling again, and they _definitely_ couldn't bring up the topic of Wendy showing the boy her boobs or the funny feelings they'd felt and were still feeling.

Those feelings were the fundamental source of the awkwardness between them. Carn would feel tingles in his private place every time he so much as _looked_ at the beautiful blue-haired girl, and he didn't understand what it meant or why or if it was a good thing or a bad thing. Wendy had it even worse. She started having dreams at night of being tickled and touched by the green-haired boy, then waking up to find her panties wet with… _something_ that wasn't pee. Neither one of them confided with the other about these bodily changes-of course they didn't. What boy just tells a girl, "My peepee gets hard when I see you?" and what girl just tells a boy, "I have dreams about you and wake up with wet panties?" Such topics of conversation are unthinkable, so they said nothing and the awkwardness continued.

But in the end, the fact that their desires didn't change also continued. Carn still wanted to tickle Wendy, and Wendy still wanted Carn to tickle her. And with each day that passed, they both knew it was less and less likely that Wendy's friends wouldn't show up and rescue her (neither one of them was willing to consider they might already be gone for good). So one day, Carn decided to do something else: something reckless that would change his life permanently.

After three days, while Wendy was eating breakfast in the attic, Carn said, "I want to join Fairy Tail and go to Earthland with you."

Wendy dropped her fork and her jaw as she stared at him. "Eh? But… Carn you, can't use magic."

Yes, that was the fundamental factor preventing the boy from leaving here _with_ the girl he was crushing on when her friends arrived. But he shook a finger, adopting a theatrical stance and saying, "Ah, see, that's where you're wrong!" Then, he pulled out something that looked like a cross between a voodoo doll and a stick figure with gems for eyes from behind his back with a "Ta-da!" "This is something I found under a floorboard in grandpa's room. Before he died he used to use magic items, so I thought he might have some hidden somewhere. I've been practicing with them secretly while my mom and dad aren't home for years. Watch."

Holding the doll to his chest with both hands, he said, "Dark Duplication." The dolls eyes glowed eerily and Carn's body seemed to stretch and contract. Then suddenly it _split_ and there were three Carn's where there had previously been one, each holding an identical doll. "See?" said one. "Isn't it cool?" asked another. "I can be a wizard too," finished the third.

Suddenly, something Wendy had been wondering about for a while now made had Carn helped her back when he thought she was with a Dark Guild? Because he was just that nice? Because he wanted to tickle her? No. Or at least not by themselves. It was because he _sympathized_ with wizards.

Still, she looked down feeling something not right about it all. "What about… your family?" The elephant in the room-the one Wendy still had yet to meet-was Carn's parents. Surely they wouldn't like it if he just left.

The boys immediately tried to shrug it off, speaking one after the other. "They don't need me here. Yeah, I'd miss them, but they'll be better off with one less mouth to feed anyway. It's a win-win."

"You can't say that!" Without meaning to, Carn had struck close to the heart of Fairy Tail, and Wendy, though new to the guild herself, would not stand for it. "Family is very important. You can't just abandon them because you want to-" She didn't finish the sentence, but exactly what she was accusing him of-leaving his house and home just to tickle Wendy-rang through loud and clear to both of them.

There was an awkward moment of silence, and then Carn-or rather, one of the Carns, the one in the center-spoke. "That's not it… I mean, that's part of it, but there's more. I want to be able to use magic and join a guild like my grandpa did. I can't just _do_ that here in Edolas, but I could in Earthland, right?" He looked up with resolve in his eyes, his fingers clenched into fists. "My parents… probably won't understand at first, but… if your friends explain it to them, then maybe they'll be okay with it. I mean, it's not like I'll be joining a Dark Guild or becoming a criminal. I think they'll be happy for me."

Wendy looked at him sternly and asked, "Are you sure?" He nodded back firmly. "You really want to leave your family and join Fairy Tail?" He nodded again, just as firmly. "And you really think we can convince them to let you?" He nodded a third time, keeping his eyes locked on hers. Wendy had expected the boy to show hesitation, but he didn't. He had thought it over and made a decision. For all his fetishes and lusts for the girl in front of him, his heart was not yet so impure that he didn't know what was really important to him, and Wendy could see that.

After thinking it over for a bit, the dragon slayer sighed. "I guess it's okay then. On three conditions." She looked up at him, unusually stern but wanting to make sure he understood that she would lose respect for him if he came along but these conditions weren't met. She held up one finger. "First, your parents have to _actually_ agree to let you come with us. If Natsu and Lucy and the others can't convince them it's okay, then I won't let you come." She held up a second. "And second, you need to promise that you'll practice every day. I don't want you to get hurt because you got caught up in one of our fights and couldn't protect yourself."

Carn nodded along with both of these and waited patiently for the third. But it didn't come. He sat there long enough for the silence to get awkward, then slowly asked, "...And? You said there were three?"

Wendy's face reddened. She _did_ have a third condition… but she wasn't honestly sure she wanted to admit what it was. "Th-th-the third one's not as important as the first two. Agree to those first." She said, waving her hands in front of herself oddly defensively.

The boy raised an eyebrow at this, and started to sweat nervously. She wasn't going to ask that he never tickle her again, was she? That would be the worst possible third condition he could think of. "O-okay," he said, trying to ignore the anticipatory thumping of his heart, "I agree."

"Good." Wendy nodded. Then she looked down. The redness in her face didn't drain away. In fact it worsened. "Th-th-then, the third one is…" She almost didn't say it. She almost said, "Never mind, it really wasn't important, forget it," but after a bit of stuttering… "I-I-I-I-I want you t-t-to go back to h-h-h-how you were before. When y-you…" The dragon slayer mumbled the last part and the boy barely heard it. But he _did_ just barely hear it even so. "...tickled me everyday…"

Wendy had accepted it within herself. She wanted to be tickled. More specifically, she wanted to be tickled by Carn. She liked how alive he looked when he tickled her, how safe she felt giggling her fears away in his hands. She liked it when he ambushed her; he had this way of knowing when she was worried and just… making the worries go away. If there was such a thing in this world as love, perhaps this was it? She was too inexperienced to say for sure, but she felt like it must be.

Though she could barely admit her desire for tickling out loud. No way was she brave enough to admit the rest of it.

She kept her face turned down, half-hoping Carn hadn't heard her-that she could just play it off and say, "Forget it." "...Wendy?" Her shoulders shook at the sound of her name from his lips. Would he think she was weird for asking for that? Would he think she was childish? Would he-

"Tickle attack!"

The dragon slayer was knocked back on the bed she was seated on, her empty plate flung from her hands as her arms tried weakly, ineffectively, to protect herself from _three sets of hands_. Only one of the Carns-the real one-actually spoke, but the three worked as one to pin her arms overhead and start scribbling in her belly and armpits while he did. "Yes, yes, of course I'll tickle you! I'll tickle you all day if you want!" he yelled excitedly, letting out adorable "eeps" at how cute she was. The most beautiful girl in the world was _asking_ him to tickle her every day?! How could he _not_ be overjoyed?! It was everything he could have ever hoped for!

And Wendy, finding herself on the receiving end of the most tickly attack so far was somewhere between being relieved, happy and regretting saying anything because, well… "EEHEEHEE AHAHAHAHAHA EEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE N-N-NAHAHAHAHEEHEEHEEHEE!" ...she… couldn't speak. It tickled so much, she couldn't speak at all. Perhaps not a smart idea to ask for tickles from the boy that was currently three boys.

But the tickles didn't last long. They slowed to a stop pretty quickly, and three identical faces looked away shyly. "But…" One of them-the one that had been tickling her armpits and was therefore obviously the real one-spoke hesitantly. "I… want to tickle you… in weird ways and stuff." He didn't know how to explain, but he didn't need to either. She understood what he was saying. "Are you… really sure you're okay with me… tickling you when I think like that?"

The blue-haired girl also looked away, making a little moaning, "eep"ing sound as she braced herself to say what she had to say. "I'm not okay with you doing… the _weird_ stuff without asking me first yet." She knowingly and intentionally tagged on a word that implied that maybe, someday she would be before continuing. "But I… also want to… be tickled in weird ways and stuff… and I'd be too embarrassed to ask anyone else." If she ever admitted what she'd let Carn do-what she _wanted_ Carn to do-to the other members of Fairy Tail, she'd die of embarrassment. ...And she also had this nagging suspicion that some of the other members would try to murder him for it, so she _definitely_ wasn't telling anyone else about it.

"So then…?" Carn started to ask a question, his mouth drying up as he did so.

He didn't need to finish. Wendy nodded. "Yes. But only if you get rid of one of the clones. I-I'll die if you tickle me there _and_ in my armpits at the same time."

The boy nodded and held up the doll. "Merge." The clone sitting on Wendy's arms stayed where it was, but the other shifted back into the original. Then, looking down at her from the side, he took in the view of the girl in the sleeveless green dress, all bound up and waiting for tickles. Although… "The dress… is a little in the way." He said, thinking she would ask to be let up so she could pull down pull down the shoulder straps again.

But instead, and with shocking forwardness, she said-whispered really, "You could… pull it up from the bottom?" Carn reeled from that, and Wendy, perhaps in a bit of a lusty daze, continued by saying, "I don't mind if you see my panties and stuff. You've already seen it anyway."

She was giving him permission-no-she was giving him a request to strip her dress off himself. It was surreal. So surreal that neither of them questioned their actions too deeply. They were operating on instinct at this point, so Carn grabbed the hem of her dress and slowly lifted it, revealing her panties, pulling it up to expose her belly and bellybutton and ribs-a beautiful, creamy-looking midriff he had to pause and marvel at seeing for the first time. And then. It lifted up high enough to reveal her flat chest. It didn't stop there; Carn handed the dress off to his clone, who moved off of Wendy's arms long enough to pull it the rest of the way off, leaving her in nothing but her panties.

"...Hey," she said in as the reality of what she'd just done sank in and she was filled with a powerful heat. "This is a bit embarrassing. Could you… take off your shirt too?"

Oh, yes of course. That was only fair, Carn thought. So both he and the clone removed their tops-the latter's simply fading into nonexistence when it came off.

It was around that point the magnitude of what they were doing finally hit them through the mind-numbed atmosphere, but they'd come that far already. There was no point in holding back now. So Carn, the real one-his clone's job at this point was just to hold Wendy's arms down and nothing more-tenderly, lovingly, bashfully brought his hands down to the dragon slayer's adorable, vulnerable breasts. This time, he didn't take the time to explore, his fingers drawn to the erect pink targets, touching them softly. Those touches turned to caresses, those caresses to flicks, and for Wendy, this equated to barely repressed "Eeps" turning to uncontainable giggles and from there to unstoppable laughs. "AHAHAHAHAHAHA EEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE, YES YEHEHEHEHEHES! EEHEEHEEHEEHEEHEE IHIHIHIHIHIHIT TIHIHIHIHIHIHICKLES! AH, AH, AHAHAHAHAHAHA!"

Even Wendy was surprised to hear "yes" coming out of her mouth instead of "no", so of course Carn was too. He'd believed-he'd _known_-that Wendy really did like him tickling her, certainly, but she'd never verbalized it _during_ the tickles. Of course she hadn't. She had never been this hungry for it before. Several days had passed since the last session, and Wendy hadn't realized just how much she craved Carn's touch on this spot until she felt it again. It encouraged Carn-emboldened him-and his fingers wiggled faster and more confidently.

Carn felt weird feelings between his legs again and, curious, he turned to see Wendy's panties had suddenly gained a wet spot again. Neither knew what this meant, and last time they'd feared it. But this time… this time was different. Perhaps because they'd both admitted they wanted to keep exploring it, or perhaps each gained confidence from knowing the other wanted it. If it was weird, well, at least it was a weirdness they shared. So they ignored questions about what the sensation was or whether or not this was okay and just rolled with it.

However, those feelings did bring another change-Wendy's increased "struggling." "Woah! Woah!" Carn, sitting carefully on Wendy's stomach as a means of holding her down, and the clone, doing everything he could to keep her arms up, found Wendy suddenly bouncing around again. Carn was beginning to think that Wendy's escape instinct applied specifically and only to when her nipples were tickled, but that wasn't it. Wendy's body _was_ responding instinctively, but not to escape. If anything, it was trying to get _more_, ironically. Her legs spread, her feet planted on the floor and she pushed down hard enough to actually lift the sitting Carn into the air.

The boy tickled her as much as possible under those circumstances, but felt like she was bucking more and more strongly than she did the first time, and one of her arms slipped away from the clone, gripped his wrist and yanked him downward. "WOAH!" Carn fell forward, his clone bouncing out of the way, and found his bare upperbody pressed against Wendy's and her arms wrapped around him.

Panting down from the ticklish giddiness, Wendy looked on with flush-faced surprise at what she herself had done/was doing and mumbled, "Uhh… got you?"

Carn stared into her eyes, mere inches away from his own, and chuckled nervously. "Yeah, you, uh, you got me. ...Was I… tickling too much?"

"Mm-mm." Wendy said with a shake of her head. "I just… couldn't stop myself. It makes me want to hug you, I guess." They both realized what she'd just said a moment after the words were out of her mouth and blushed deeply. Kids don't understand fetishes, nor do they necessarily understand the significance of wanting to strip or be stripped in front of someone special. But they understand the significance of wanting to hug someone; such is the nature of a child's puppy love.

The green-haired boy had no idea how to respond to this. Not that he _didn't_ want to hug her back, but he couldn't _say_ it. So instead, he redirected the conversation. "W-w-well, I don't mind, but if that happens every time, it would make tickling you difficult."

"Yeah," Wendy agreed, pulling one of her hands away to rub one of her nipples slowly. "I didn't really want it to stop. I feel… hot… and tingly." She admitted the ache in her chest as best she could with her limited comprehension. "It's actually really frustrating that I made you stop."

Suddenly the light of inspiration-an arguably diabolical inspiration-went off in Carn's mind. "Wait a minute. Maybe… maybe I could…"

Seeing the gears turning in her crush's mind, Wendy tilted her head and asked curiously, "What? What is it?"

"Well… It sounds a bit creepy, but… maybe I could tie you up?" Carn said, then hurried to explain himself. "I mean, well, I was just thinking, if you were tied up, you couldn't stop me. No wait, that still sounds creepy. I mean, you wouldn't have to worry about accidentally making it harder for me to tickle you. And! And, it would also give me a chance to show off another spell. I have a magic item-a rope-that you're suppose to be able to control to catch bad guys, so I was kinda hoping to show you how that works anyway, so…"

He trailed off as he realized he was rambling. And Wendy could understand why; it _was_ a bizarre and awkward idea. "I don't know…" she said slowly. "Being tied up sounds a bit scary."

"Well," Carn responded just as slowly, "I mean… I promise I still won't do anything weird without your permission so… do you trust me?"

"...I-"

"**WWWEEENNNDDDYYY?! Where are yyyooouuu?!**"

"Wendy! Are you here somewhere?"

"We're going home now, Wendy!"

"Please tell me where you are, child!"

The conversation was interrupted by a roar and a series of shouts from below from several familiar voices. Both kids, still hugging in their underwear, froze and then jumped off of each other as Wendy half-yelled, half-whispered, "AAAAHHH, THEY'RE HERE! QUICK, GET DRESSED, GET DRESSED!" They tossed their clothes on as quickly as possible and merged Carn's clone back into the orignal.

This particular incident ended, unfortunately, in what we of the adult world would call a cock-block. But neither Wendy nor Carn was satisfied with that, and it would not be the last time the subject came up. No, no, far from it. If anything, this was where their story actually begins: with the words Wendy whispered to Carn right before they rushed over to the attic door. "Wait… I do. I trust you. So… please, come to Fairy Tail with us. Okay?"

* * *

The city of Magnolia in the Kingdom of Fiore, a quiet and peaceful place to live, save for the wild and rambunctious wizard guild at its center. Yet today an usual calm descends upon the Fairy Tail Guild as Wendy and its newest member, Carn Checkerton, head out to "train," refusing offers of help from Natsu, Grey, and all the other training-eager guildmates. Even Carla was left behind as she had been every other time.

Natsu stared with narrowed eyes as the entrance closed behind them, frozen in mid-grapple with the nearly-nude Grey Fullbuster. "Somethin' smells fishy here."

"Really?! Does that mean it's dinnertime?!" his blue-cat companion piped up, completely overreacting to the word "fishy" as usual.

The white Exeed chided him immediately. "Don't be a fool, tomcat; he means that something's off with poor little Wendy."

"Whaddya mean?" Grey asked mystified, slowly pulling out of his fight with Natsu. "They're just training, right?"

The conversation spread throughout the guild hall rapidly, with nearly everyone in the room throwing in their own two cents: Elfman praising Carn for working hard to become a "real man," Juvia worrying over the possibility that they were plotting to steal her "darling Grey," Mirajane subtly hinting at something scandalous, and Lucy rebuking her for it before yelling at Grey to put some clothes on (which of course he hadn't realized he'd taken off, as usual).

It was Mirajane's suggestion that garnered the most concern, though, as several of those who knew Wendy well-specifically Carla and Lucy-started to wonder if maybe… maybe those two were discovering things together they really shouldn't be discovering yet…

* * *

The concern was well-founded but while the Fairy Tail members were still deliberating over what to do about it several hours later, the deeds in question were already underway. Deep in the forest away from the prying eyes of curious friends, family and strangers, Carn and Wendy really _did_ practice Carn's use of magic.

"Rope Bind."

Yes. They really did practice it. They just weren't doing it… _conventionally_.

Wendy was secretly beginning to think being a tickle maniac ran in Carn's family. All the magic tools he'd found in his grandpa's secret stash were weirdly well-suited to it. To start, there was a mirage spell-imbued mirror that hid a room-sized area from view, so that even if someone wandered by, they wouldn't see or hear what was going on with the two kids. There was a magic rope which, when used, tied Wendy's wrists to an overhanging branch, giving Carn free reign to tickle her standing up. There was even a magic box that seemed to have Requipping powers like Erza's, only Carn used to strip off Wendy's dress without tearing them or anything. Also made putting them back on when they were about to be caught a simple matter.

And these were just the _set-up_ tools. As Wendy nervously, eagerly fidgeted, she eyed the array of do-dads spread out on the ground trying to decide which ones to tell Carn to "practice" with today while he waited with his arms spread wide.

Some time had passed since they'd started this. Of course their opportunities were split between jobs and adventures, but overall, they seized every chance they could to come out and have tickling sessions like this, so Wendy they were both thoroughly acquainted with the drill by now. It had actually been a little while since their last round and the dragon slayer was feeling a bit daring, so she gestured with her chin over to the cloning doll. "That one. See if you can make it all the way to six this time," she said, fully aware of what all those clones would do once summoned.

Carn in turn could feel something down south becoming as stiff as wood at the mere _suggestion_. Wendy was apparently up for a _real_ tickling today, and he relished in that. "If you're sure," he said, picking up the doll and holding it out. "Dark… Duplication…" He dragged the spell's name out, focussing with all his might to try and break his previous record. His body appeared to twist and stretch, pull and contract until suddenly there were… exactly five Carns. "Darn," they said, looking around at each other. "Still didn't make it to six."

"Aw, d-don't worry about it; you'll get it s-someday," Wendy responded, stuttering a bit and instinctively backing away from the squad of ticklers in front of her. Her legs were rubbing together in anticipation and she _already_ felt the wetness in her panties. She'd been getting used to it bit by bit. Of course it was still extremely embarrassing, but… it was a good embarrassing. Not like being on stage in a weird outfit; more like when being praised for a job well done.

The clones shrugged their shoulders and started to approach her-to surround her-nonchalantly. Or at least they tried to, but… "Oh well, guess we'll just have stay like this for an hour or two to build up more endurance to the spell's strain." ...despite the coolness of his movements and the seamlessness of his speech, Wendy noticed a small bulge in his-er-_their_ pants. She didn't know what it was-frankly she was _scared_ to know what it was and never pointed it out-but she'd realized it was a giveaway of sorts. When that bump appeared, she was screwed. It was as simple as that; there was no escape now.

...Well, technically she _could_ still escape easily if she used her magic, but she didn't want to.

The five boys, all with the same green hair and blue eyes, raised 50 identical wiggling fingers with identical hungry grins, making Wendy start "Eep"ing and giggling even before they touched her. They started closing in, making the girl try to wiggle away from whichever was closest at the time, but being completely surrounded meant there was no good direction to retreat to, resulting in her dancing and wiggling around in circles.

Finally the fingers made contact. "EEEhehehehehe!" It was just a quick tickle on her side from one clone. Then another quick tickle from a different one struck her belly for three seconds. The clones took turns making her squeak and flinch and bounce. Carn had learned by now that although hard tickling zapped Wendy's strength, short bursts made her bounce and struggle in the most adorable way possible, so he had a real blast poking and prodding her from her armpits down to her hips for several minutes. He and his duplicates mixed in quiet "kitchy, kitchy, coos" and "tickle, tickle, tickles" from every direction to make it that much more maddening.

In the end, though, Carn was a true tickling sadist at heart and could not be satisfied with just teasing. So finally, he-the one directly in front of Wendy, of course, hushed his clones and held up his hands over Wendy's armpits. Then he began a countdown. "Threeeee…" The other clones took up positions, fingers ready and wiggling. "Twoooo…" the hands began their slow descent. "Onnnnneeee…" Wendy bounced and pleaded with a helpless silly look on her face.

Carn never said "Zero." There was no need. The army of hands touched down and began to drive the girl crazy. There were two hands on either side of her tummy, two caressing and tickling each undeveloped breast, and one of each of the original's hands digging into her armpits. The sensation was so overwhelming that Wendy drifted in and out of silent laughter. She felt that now-familiar heat in her body build up to it's breaking point, push past it, and fill her with an indescribable pleasure… followed by an increase in sensitivity that was far too much for her to bear.

Now would be the time Wendy seriously asked for mercy under normal circumstances, but right now, she couldn't speak. And there was an unspoken understanding between Carn and Wendy-if she couldn't speak, she didn't get to say "No." And she couldn't complain because, well, she was the one who picked the tool Carn could use to drive her to this point. Her own fault. Nothing to do but bear it until the green-haired boy was thoroughly satisfied.

Besides… there was a _reason_ why Wendy would, once in a while, choose to be pushed past her limits.

As the five Carns continued to tickle her, wiggling their fingers along her breasts and armpits and tummy, driving her so far over the moon she could barely breath, the heat started to build up inside her again. Wendy had learned about it the hard way the first time Carn did this to her-the unspeakable joy that filled her at the height of the tickling… that wasn't the end of it. There were _higher_ levels beyond that if she allowed the punishment to proceed past the point where she couldn't stand any more.

Carn, for his part, knew that when Wendy wanted to be tickled like this, she was in the mood for a _real_ tickling and obliged her by holding nothing back. All five of him whispered "tickle, tickle, tickle"s and "coochie, coochie, coo"s into her ears. He savored the feeling of her soft armpits under his fingers, switching between spider wiggling to up-and-down stroking to side-to-side stroking to round-and-round circling to in-the-center digging as was his whim at any given moment. The bulge in his pants was growing a bit painful, and he wanted to touch it, but if he did that, he'd have to take one of his hands off Wendy, and he wasn't ready for that yet.

This continued for what seemed like forever to Wendy and not long enough to Carn. Then Wendy's body arced, and she let out a long shriek through the tickling. The wetness in her panties multiplied greatly, and Carn knew from past experience that if he kept going past this point at full force, poor Wendy was likely to pass out. Yet if he let up, she'd regain enough control of her breathing to use the safeword. In other words, playtime was basically over. Still, he didn't want to let up until he absolutely had too, so he and his clones slowed their fingers from a full-on attack, to a slow gentle crawl.

After two "highs" even a slow gentle crawl was too much for Wendy. After a full minute of struggling to regain her breath through the tickling, she managed to squeal out, "M-M-MEHEHEHEHEHEHEHERCYEHEHEHEHEHE! STOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOP NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOW!"

"Mercy" was the cue to stop for real, and Carn sighed a bit as he pulled back and sucked the clones back into himself. "Well?" he asked, "Have fun? You alright?"

Wendy, taking deep breaths, responded by holding two thumbs-up, then gestured to her wrists. Carn took the cue and commanded his rope to let her go and return to his side, curled up like a whip. The blue-haired girl collapsed into his arms and he gently laid her on a picnic blanket while she gigglishly held herself tight and rubbed out the tickly sensations in her armpits in nipples. The sight was glorious, Wendy lying there mostly naked massaging herself with a content, closed-eyes smile on her face, and that glorious sight reminded Carn that he had some business to take care of. "Um… excuse me for a bit, I need to go use the restroom."

Wendy gave another thumbs-up and Carn left. By now she knew the pattern. Although Carn never said he was going to do anything other than "use the bathroom", the fact that he always had to do it after a session combined with the visible bulge beforehand-not to mention what happened to her _during_ the session-were all very telling things. She didn't ask, and he didn't tell, but she had a basic idea of what he was actually doing.

That was how it was between them. Both were becoming increasingly aware that their bodies were changing, but neither one voiced it. They had chosen to simply declare this a silly, childish game, nothing more. Neither one mentioned any desires beyond tickling and being tickled. Neither brought up, for example, the fact that each had dreams of kissing the other while they slept. They were both afraid to take that next step, even though each was aware the want was mutual. ...Or perhaps only Wendy did? Carn could sometimes be dense about these things. At the very least, he probably didn't know how much Wendy knew about what he wanted. Wendy, by contrast, was under no such delusions as to think she was really hiding anything from him.

Even so, they just didn't take that next step-refused to openly acknowledge the depth of what was happening to them. Because they could sense that if they did, something… something would _change_ forever, and whether that something would ultimately be good or bad, they didn't know. All they did know was that the prospect was terrifying. No. There was no need to alter this dynamic at all. Wendy was a ticklish girl who liked being tickled. And Carn was a boy who liked tickling her. That was all there was to it. That was all they would _allow_ there to be to it. It was a perfectly _innocent_ activity.

* * *

The next day, Lucy asked Wendy to go shopping with her, but Wendy declined and left with Carn once again. Once again, they went out into the forest, and performed their preparations, and once complete, Wendy stared at the array of magic tools and considered her options. "How about… the feathers this time?" She gestured with her chin to two pink feathers.

Carn groaned and nodded. "Going with the hard one today? ...Alright." Carn tapped the feathers with two fingers on each hand and declared, "Mind Lift." Then he put both of the two sets of fingers to his forehead and focused on the feathers. He focused and focused and focused. The feathers jiggled a bit and lifted a few inches into the air before falling back down to the ground as Carn lowered his arms panting. "Nope. Still can't control two at once yet."

Wendy giggled at the sight, and gently said, "It's alright. I know it's your hardest tool. Go ahead and practice with just one then."

These magic feathers were supposed to be controlled psychically, but Carn found them nearly useless. It was so much harder to control them than his other magic artifacts, but that was why they made good practice, or so Wendy kept saying. Carn believed that she _really_ chose the feathers when she wanted Carn to go easy on her. But, oh well. So be it. He tapped just one pair of fingers to his head again and focussed once more. This time, the feather lifted into the air fairly easily and darted off to Wendy's right.

It took a fair bit of zigging and zagging to make the magic feather go where Carn wanted it too, but after a minute or two, he finally started to get a handle on it and made it start swiping around Wendy's belly. The sky dragon slayer started giggling and moaning with a wide smile on her face, more like the kind one gets from a massage than from a tickling. "Mmmhmhm, I really lihihike the feather, Cahaharn."

Any discontent he felt at not being able to tickle harder was washed away in light of how adorably pleased Wendy was. She swayed from side to side, her body more inclined to move when tickled softly than when tickled harshly. And whether it was trying to escape from or offer itself to the feather was open to interpretation as it appeared to be doing both and neither.

Still, these adorable distractions made the feather even harder to control, and Carn needed to maintain his focus. _Especially_ since his crush's tummy was not his primary target. He start to swing the feather upward, overshot it to get in her neck, then swung back down, overshot again and wound up on her ribs, then carefully tweaked it back up just a little bit. Thus, he finally arrived at his destination, her breasts.

Carn had learned something about the feather a while back. The place where Wendy _really_ wanted it was right here, on her little boobies. More specifically on her nipples. Which made this "training" ridiculously difficult given how small the targets were and how difficult to control the feather was. But the moaning giggles and declarations of, "Yes. Yes, Cahaharn, you're, ahh, doing good!" was all the motivation he needed to try harder. The nipples; if he could just get that blasted feather on her nipples, he could make Wendy very, very happy. Just a little more… just a little… more…

The topless girl let out a loud gasp and descended into much stronger giggling as the feather finally found its mark. "Eeeeeheeheeheeheehee! Aaaaahn! Ahahaha, ha, ha, ahhheeheehee!" The sound made the boy so dazed with happiness that he lost his place again. But that was alright. He would just have to seek out those nipples all over again. And again. And again, until she had her "big happy" moment and decided she was done.

* * *

The next day, Carla asked Wendy to join her for some tea, but Wendy refused, simply saying she'd already had too much to eat that day and left with Carn once again. And once again, the array of tools lay out before her. "I think… you should use the claws today."

Carn grinned almost malevolently at that, sending shivers of anticipation up the girl's bare back. "As you wish, milady." He slipped the claws-a pair of gloves with long, pointed "fingernails" on the ends-onto his hands. If the blades were sharpened, as the tool was probably intended to be, it would be a truly scary weapon, but they were blunt and harmless, hence why Carn and Wendy called them fingernails. What made this magic tool special was a spell called, "Phantom Touch." Once activated, any sensation inflicted by the claws, be it pain or tickling, would continue for several minutes on the spot they touched afterward.

Wendy was already squirming as her personal tickler approached her with his catlike hands. She started giggling preemptively, though not in anticipation of the tickles. "Hehe, you look like you should have cat ears and a tail."

Carn paused for a moment with redness on his cheeks. Then he jumped at her and began raking the claws along her belly and up her sides. "Oh is that so?! I'll tickle that idea right out of your head!"

"Eeek! Heeheeheeheehee! No! I'm sorryyyheeheeheeheeheehee!" The girl started giggling out apologies as fast as she could, but the claws were faster, leaving a ticklish trail behind them. After covering her ribs and breasts, it felt like they were everywhere at once. Except for one special location. "Eeheeheeheehee! Noooo! Dohohohohohohon't!"

The boy held the claws over her armpits and started wiggling them in the air where she could see. She laughed up a storm from both the anticipation and the incessantly ticklish sensations the magic had left behind everywhere else. "Tiiickle, tickle, ticklllle! I'm gonna get your armpiiiiits! They can't escape from meeee!" Carn sang, slowly lowering them down. "Threee… Twoooo… One!"

Wendy screeched as her armpits were struck, and any futile resistance her body was attempting drained out of her. Carn was very thorough with his claws. He wanted her to feel them tickling every single nerve of her mesmerizingly beautiful armpits all at the same time. And when her laughter started to get quieter, he left the armpits just long enough to renew the ticklish effects on the rest of her body.

The girl's body felt electrified with tickling. It was as if she could feel the claws in her pits being transferred throughout the rest of her being. The tingling in her legs was slower to build up during cases like this, when the tickling was so thoroughly focused on that spot, but it _was_ building up. She started to gasp and moan amid her laughter, and her body shifted from motionless to desperate as it always did.

Seconds passed, then minutes. Wendy felt like hours of slowly getting hotter and hotter passed, though it was probably closer to ten minutes. Then finally, she moaned loudly and went over the edge, calling for mercy before Carn could keep going into super-ticklish time. She panted and smiled at him, and said, "Mmm, those things are terrible," in the most content tone imaginable.

* * *

The next day, Natsu and Gajeel asked Wendy to join them for some dragon slayer vs. dragon slayer sparring, and in order to further cut off the odds of her running off with Carn again, several of Fairy Tail's other magic-item wielding wizards offered to train him instead. But Carn turned red at the prospect of anyone else seeing his array of tools and almost ran out of the guild dragging Wendy behind him while she called out an apology and offered to join in some other time.

Perhaps it was the closeness of the close call that made Wendy feel a bit bolder than usual today. Rather than ask for a tool that Carn was particularly skilled with or needed practice with, she picked the one that was secretly her favorite. It was a blue gemstone with the symbol of the wind on it.

Carn groaned a bit internally but picked it up as requested. "Okay, okay, if that's what you want. Cyclone Prison." He held out the gemstone and a whirlwind slowly formed around Wendy, starting at her feet and traveling up her body until she was completely enveloped. The air slipped into every nook and cranny, caressing her softly yet vigorously like a billion paintbrushes. If it was localized in one area, it wouldn't be particularly intense, but spread out as it was over her feet, knees, thighs, tummy, ribs, sides, breasts and armpits, it all added up to a very ticklish sensation and left her laughing loudly.

Carn didn't especially like it because it didn't give him much to do and muffled both his abilities to see and hear her, but Wendy being a wind-based magic user thought it was amazing, so he was willing to indulge her… Well, that's what Carn thought, but the truth was, Wendy liked it for _other_ reasons. For one thing, being the wind dragon slayer meant that she could "eat" some of this tickling wind, and when she did, it would give her a funny, fluttery feeling, as if she was being tickled inside _and _outside at the same time. But there was also a simpler, more fundamental reason; it was because the wind had no sense of privacy and had a tendency to tickle her _entire_ body at once. All of it. Everywhere. Including the place they'd chosen not to acknowledge.

Carn hadn't caught on to the implications of that yet and Wendy had no intention of enlightening him. She allowed the sensation to overwhelm her with a guilty pleasure, letting Carn unknowingly tease and tickle even her most secret places, and it never took long for the "big happy" to come during this process.

This was the part where things would get fun for Carn, though. Unable to yell loudly enough for her cries of mercy to be heard beyond the wind (or so Carn claimed), Wendy only had one way to make the tickling stop: eat all of the wind. Yet, as already stated, this did not make the tickling instantly go away. Instead it would spread throughout her body, tickling her nerves from the inside. The resulting sensation was difficult to describe. It was like… having an army of ants crawling around on her but without the ants. "Eeheeheeheeheehee! It tihihihihihihickles! I cahahahahahahahan't make it stohohohohohohop!" she would complain, and in response Carn would shrug and make things worse by adding his own fingers into the mix.

Simply sitting back and watching the girl laugh was not good enough for Carn. He wanted to get a good look at her armpits and nipples getting tickled at least a little bit, and though Wendy complained, they had agreed previously that he could tickle her as much as he wanted until the wind's effects wore off.

Which unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how one chose to look at it) wouldn't be for another five minutes...

* * *

And that's how it continued. Every day for the next few days, they would leave their guildmates scratching their heads behind them every afternoon and go out into the forest to train and play, and she and Carn kept getting secretive, mischievous looks when they left the guild. And finally, someone snapped.

Surprisingly, it wasn't Natsu.

"I can't take this anymore! I finally found my Wendy again, and she doesn't want to spend any time with me!"

"Hey, please don't cry. Here, you can have half of my fishie."

"Not everything can be solved with fish, tomcat! And don't touch me so casually!"

Carla was a cool and composed character under normal circumstances, but Wendy's continuous unintentionally giving her the cold shoulder was finally getting to her. Happy tried to reassure her the only ways he knew how, but they didn't go over well. ...Well, more accurately the fish didn't, but despite her harsh words, Carla accepted the hug, desperate for any consolation at all.

The other members of their team jumped to their feet, and started to speak one by one. Natsu raged first, "I don't get why it's such a big deal, but making Carla cry isn't cool! I say we go out and see what's up."

Lucy spoke next. "I've got this nagging suspicion they're doing things they shouldn't be, and it's driving me crazy. I have to know what they're doing before I can sleep peacefully at night."

Next was Erza's turn. "I trust in Wendy, but Carn might be deceiving her somehow. She hasn't been the same since the day we found her with him. If it turns out to be the case that he's doing something to her, I shall have to punish him appropriately."

And finally Grey… asked a question he shouldn't have. "That's great and all, but how are we going to do it? Are you planning to just ask them what's going on or what? I don't know if you've noticed, but that hasn't been working so far."

Everyone froze and sank into thought. It was true that asking for details would be simple enough, but both Carn and Wendy had adamantly avoided saying anything to anyone other than, "We're training." Natsu and the other men of the guild had even tried threatening Carn at one point, but the boy had stubbornly-or perhaps in sheer terror-insisted that nothing weird was going on. And ever since then, the two had been getting more and more cautious about making sure they weren't followed. Even Natsu, who _could_ follow them pretty easily with his nose, couldn't get close to them without Wendy using _her_ nose to notice his approach. So they'd been at a bit of an impasse, unable to learn anything.

But while everyone else couldn't decide on a course of action, Erza just put a hand on her hip, stuck out a thumbs-up and said with sparkles around her eyes, "Don't worry about that; I've thought of everything. We'll learn the truth easily with this plan."

Natsu and Happy gave a cheer of enthusiasm, but the other three recognized that look in Erza's eyes. It was the look she got when she came up with a plan that was utterly ridiculous. But she was the de facto leader of their group, so of course they would end up doing things her way same as they always did, leaving Lucy to sigh and lean over the table muttering, "I have a bad feeling about this…"

* * *

The next day, when Carn arrived at the Guild Hall, as if on cue, everyone in the room stood up and started panicking. "Oh noes, Wendy has been kidnapped by a Dark Guild and imprisoned in an ancient castle east of here!" Although some of the "panicking" people clearly looked annoyed or chagrined. Lucy, for example, was thinking, _There's no way that this is going to work. Our acting is terrible, and if Wendy really was in trouble, we'd already be out there trying to save-_

"Wait, something happened to Wendy?! We have to go save her!"

_No way, he _bought _that?!_

Carn did in fact fall for the obvious act hook, line and sinker. He could be rather dense from time to time, _especially_ where Wendy was concerned, and this was apparently one of those times. So he demanded an explanation from the rest of the guild, who said that Wendy had been kidnapped by a Dark Guild called Fake Out which specialized in making money by demanding ransoms. And apparently everyone in Fairy Tail was busy with some incredibly urgent mission or another (fighting a giant evil fishy that was terrorizing the north, for example) and couldn't go save her seeing as she wasn't in any immediate danger, yet they worried that if someone didn't go to the Dark Guild soon, they would realize Fairy Tail didn't have enough money to pay the ransom and dress her up in a banana suit! Now the only one who could possibly sneak into the castle and save Wendy was Carn, the only member of Fairy Tail not otherwise occupied with saving the world!

...It really was an obvious lie…

But Carn chalked up any inconsistencies to the bizarre personalities of his Fairy Tail guildmates. Bear in mind, he was already in another world with the biggest group of crazies imaginable. As far as he was concerned, all of this was completely believable. ...And also, he might've gotten a little bit giddy at the idea of being the hero who saved Wendy from peril. So after acquiring an oddly crudely drawn map showing the location of "Fake Out", Carn set out from the guild at a run.

"Just as I planned!" Erza said with obvious pride. In fact, Wendy really _was_ locked up in the tower marked on the map at that very second, but obviously it wasn't the work of a Dark Guild but rather Natsu and Grey under orders from Erza.

Lucy couldn't take the ridiculousness anymore and burst out, "What exactly is the point of all this?! How is any of this going to show us what's going on with those two?!"

The woman knight shook a finger and tut-tutted. "What they're doing is none of our business. This is a test of _character_. We'll follow behind Carn and see what he tries to do when he finds Wendy all chained up in a dungeon and thinks we're not working. And of course, if he does anything other than immediately rescue her, we'll take appropriate countermeasures."

"Great idea! That's awesome!"

Both Natsu and Grey reacted with pride in Erza's plan, but Lucy just groaned and facepalmed. "And how exactly does that work when Wendy can smell both us and Carn coming? I mean, no matter how sneaky these two were, she definitely knows _we_ were the ones who kidnapped her."

…

…

…

"HOW COULD I OVERLOOK SUCH A CRITICAL DETAIL?!"

"YOU'RE SERIOUSLY JUST NOW REALIZING THIS?!"

And thus, the plan was declared a failure long before Carn actually reached the tower, and he was not, in fact, followed.

* * *

Carn snuck into the old decrepit tower much later that day, after running around in circles trying to make sense of Happy's poor excuse for a map. In fact, he hadn't really been able to use the map at all; he'd only found the tower by asking for directions from the locals.

Upon reaching his destination, he immediately felt like something was off. The outside of the tower looked old and decrepit-which made sense if a Dark Guild was using it as a hideout. When he snuck in through a stone window, though, he found that the inside was in various states of recently cleaned and not touched in decades. It didn't look like a place a group of people lived in, or at least not for very long. Maybe this was a new base for Fake Out? But then again, on top of the inconsistency around cleanliness, there didn't seem to be anyone here. Were they all out causing mischief somewhere?

The conclusion Carn ended up coming to was that this was the former base of a Dark Guild that moved from place to place pretty frequently and that Wendy might not even be here anymore. But when she found the tower dungeon, there she was, and the predicament she was in instantly gave him a nosebleed. She was tied up against a wall in an X and blindfolded. Her guildmates had wanted to make the kidnapping look "real" without compromising Wendy's modesty, so of _course_ Erza had reasoned that it would be best for Wendy to be changed into a bikini and cat ears. (How they did it without Natsu and Grey looking at her is a mystery the two responsible for the kidnapping never explained.)

Now Wendy was a dragon slayer, so of course she knew Carn was there. She didn't know why her guildmates did this and cried a fair bit before he arrived, but when he did, she started to get the idea. Especially since Carla would never have gone along with anything bad. Thus, although there were tearlines on her cheeks, she wasn't upset anymore. Annoyed, yes, but not upset.

So then why did Wendy not call out to Carn when he entered the tower? Why did she wait patiently for him to find her cell on his own without yelling for help? Why, even now, did she not say his name or even acknowledge that she knew someone was there? Well, simply put, because she was actually very curious what Carn would do if he found her like this. Would he rescue her like a dashing hero? Possibly, and it was an idea she liked, but… considering that it was _Carn_ and that she'd been in this position in front of him before, she was expecting something more… mischievous.

The idea that Carn would do something crazy was terrifying, of course, but in an exciting way. She honestly wanted to know what he would do if she didn't give him any limitations or safewords. It was a reckless decision on her part, she knew, but she'd been discovering a little daredevil inside her ever since the day Carn first tickled her nipples-a part of her that wanted to be pushed forcefully outside her comfort zone. So she kept her mouth shut and waited for Carn to make a decision.

And sure enough, Carn could not resist a perfect setup like this. Nor did it occur to him that just because Wendy couldn't see him didn't mean she didn't know he was here. Maybe he could get away with "interrogating" her for a while? He shouldn't-he knew he shouldn't-but he just couldn't help himself. Besides, this was a good excuse to practice casting spells without saying the names out loud.

Having thusly made a _perfectly_ valid excuse for what he was about to do, Carn walked into the room, and made the usual preparations… which in this case only consisted of stripping off the top of Wendy's swimsuit with magic, since she was already tied up. Wendy looked up at the sudden cold air on her nipples, which Carn was able to watch harden for the first time (they'd always been hard before pulling her dress off before). "W-w-who's there? W-w-w-what are going to d-d-d-do to me?" Wendy pretended to be surprised, and Carn made no move to answer with his mouth. Instead, he picked up his tools… and started to use them.

The claw was the first tool, the one that left the lingering effects, and Carn combined it with the cloning tool. They were basically the worst duo in his arsenal, and using them together had been a secret wet dream of Carn's for quite some time. It was a bit early to go all out, but Carn absolutely could not wait to try this, so his clones took their claws and pounced on Wendy's tummy, ribs and nipples while he stroked his own into her armpits.

The effect was explosive. "EEEEEHEEHEEHEEHAHAHAHAHAHA! N-N-NAHAHAHEEHEE!" Wendy felt as though every nerve in her upper body was tingling within the first 15 seconds. And within a minute, they actually were. Every spot the claws touched tickled well after he moved on, and as a result. She found herself unable to speak instantly. More than that, though, she felt as if every square millimeter of her small breasts were being fondled and tickled all at once, and it got her extremely heated extremely quickly. In fact, it was probably a new record. Her body bucked with the desire to rub her nipples and girl spot against something, but all she got was more tickling. Not that that, mattered. It would be enough. It was always enough. And yet still, her body ached for more.

Carn too was in heaven. He'd started to think he'd never be able to give Wendy the ultimate tickling, and now here he was doing it. While she was wearing cat ears too! Every squeak and squeal, every jump and jerk, every poke and prod of the claws in her underarms-he loved all of it. He was curious, though, whether or not Wendy was enjoying it since she didn't know it was him (silly boy), so he looked down to the telltale spot between her legs, a spot he usually tried to avoid looking at because, well, he didn't want her noticing him doing it (she totally noticed him doing it). And sure enough the wet spot was there, and he took that as a sign that she was enjoying this just fine (blissfully unaware that that's not always how it works).

He actually started to get another idea-a truly, truly naughty idea-but he brushed it off at first, focussing instead on pushing Wendy to the brink of madness. She laughed and moaned and moaned and laughed, and at around the same time she could feel the "big happy" building up within her, she started drifting in and out of silent laughter. Carn took that as a sign that he needed to let her cool down-tickling her until she fainted was certainly a dream of his, but he didn't want this to be over so soon-and backed away. But the lingering effects of the claws kept her going another minute longer, and she came while Carn wasn't even touching her as a result.

While Wendy cooled down from the aftereffects of the claws, Carn-or rather, the Carns-decided to test out another idea they'd had. They took the feather tool that is supposed to be controlled psychically and tried working together to control it. One was too few, five proved too many, but when two Carns tried to control a feather in tandem, it proved quite easy and the feathers moved in to attack Wendy's nipples at a speed he'd never achieved before.

"Eeheeheehee! No, no pleeheeheeheease! Dohohohohohohon't! Nohohohot right nohohohow!" Wendy begged and pleaded to be left alone in her post-orgasm state, but she didn't say the one thing that would've worked-Carn's name. In this odd case, "Carn" was the unofficial safeword. All she needed to do was tell Carn she knew it was him and he would immediately get embarrassed and probably let her go, Wendy assumed. Still, the blue-haired dragon slayer cut herself off from doing that. Partly because she wanted to know just how far Carn would go. And also partly because the feathers on her nipples were already making her feel the heat again. Up until now, she'd never willingly submitted herself to a second "big happy" directly, relying on the unspoken rule for such things. This time, she dared herself not to try and stop it from happening no matter what.

Still, she hadn't anticipated how far Carn would go with his curiosity. "Ah! W-w-wahahait! That's eeheehee, Caaaahhh!" The boy had secretly longed to investigate that wet spot for a long, long time. He considered taking off Wendy's bikini bottoms altogether, but he feared she'd hate him if he did and she found out he was the one responsible for all this. But surely if he was just touching it, that could possibly just be an accident, right? Right. So a worst case scenario could be avoided even if she did find out, the green-haired boy reasoned to himself.

This put Wendy in a tricky situation. She considered calling out the boy's name multiple times, feeling like this was a border they'd been avoiding-a point of no return. But if she admitted she knew it was him, it would _definitely_ be a point of no return, so she held her tongue. And because she held her tongue, she had to endure this new invasion of privacy and the sensations that came with them.

Not that those sensations were _bad._ Far from it, she'd long wondered what would happen if Carn touched her down there during a tickling, and the result felt _amazing_. Every poke and prod and stroke and pet down there led to waves upon waves of pleasure spreading throughout her body, pleasure that mingled with the ticklish teasing of her nipples and made it hard to think about anything other than wanting _more._ Her body bucked into Carn's fingers, trying to do something. Carn felt his fingers sink into some sort of gap every so often and was soon able to trace the outline of the gap in the panties, a little indent like a canyon between the legs, making him all the more curious what it really looked like. But whether because he was still too much of a coward or maintained at least that much gentlemanly deference, he resisted the temptation to take a peek underneath, instead simply following the canyon with his fingers from the bottom to the top.

The top, the _top_, Wendy went practically ballistic at the top. That was the sweet spot, she knew, that she'd discovered during self-experimentation. And now Carn was finding it too. Noticing a shift from "No" to "Please" whenever he was touching a certain area at the top of the canyon, Carn started to focus on it, and Wendy felt another burst of ecstasy and collapsed back into motionlessness again.

Wendy expected Carn to let her go at that point-he'd never pushed her past two "big happys" before. But on the other hand, Carn had never given a second one without pushing her to the point of near fainting before. This time was different. He hadn't been going all out after the first one, so when she had the second she was actually comparatively well rested. Thus, Carn rationalized, she could keep going. Besides there were a couple of things he was curious to find out.

The feathers ceased their motion, but one of them dropped down into Carn's hand. Rather than control it with his mind to tickle her nipples or armpits or belly or ribs or navel, he instead took it and slid it down the outside of the girl's panties. Wendy let out a shriek like nothing he'd ever heard before. "EEEEYaaaahahaha! Ah! No! Aahahahaaaa!" It seemed like the feather did tickle down here, much as he hoped it might, though not as much as it sent the other feeling through her body. Oh well, this was fun in its own way. Plus, he didn't plan on letting it be that simple.

At his signal, Carn's four clones approached with fingers wiggling and attacked Wendy's twice pleasure-wracked body from armpits to tummy. "AAAAHAHAHAHA! NOOOOHOHOHAHAHA! STAAAAH, AH, AHAHAHAHAHAP!" Her moans and laughs and pleas mingled into what Carn decided was quite possibly the most ideal state possible. With his free hand while the feather roamed around, he reached into his pants and started to finger himself as well, something he absolutely positively _never_ would have done if Wendy could see him. The sensation was altogether familiar and yet different; the waves of pleasure coursing through his own body being so much _more_ when accompanied by Wendy's melodic, angelic squeals.

For Wendy, this was some combination of heaven and hell she'd never dreamed could exist in this world. The tickling was too much, far too much, insanely too much. And yet that feather-that _feather!_-she absolutely did not want that feather to stop no matter what. It flitted around aimlessly, not really paying much attention to where it was touching at first. But eventually, Carn decided to see if the sweet spot he'd discovered at the top would like the feather as much as it liked the fingers. At that point, Wendy felt a ticklish sensation unlike anything she'd ever thought possible. It wasn't that it tickled more-or even the same-as her armpits or nipples, but it was intense in it's own right, and it was accompanied with more of that addicting pleasure than anything she'd ever felt before.

She felt it coming for the third time-the "big happy" that she only allowed Carn to give her. Just a few more seconds, she felt and then… But it didn't come. Carn, feeling the need to use two hands on _himself_ had moved the feather away leaving Wendy with only the ticklings of the clones on her armpits, nipples, ribs and tummy. Along with a burning, glaring, incredible sense of frustration.

"CAAAHAHAHAHAHARN!"

Both the clones and the original froze at the sound of his name. And in the absence of tickling, although she was panting heavily and must've been exhausted beyond imagining, in what could only be called a Fairy Tail-level bullshit second wind, Wendy was bucking and tugging on her restraints with a strength and fury the likes of which the boy had never seen before. "Put it back, put it back, hurry up, Carn!"

"Huh? Wait, you knew it was-"

"Of course I knew it was you, idiot, I could smell you the entire time!" Wendy yelled out quickly with a ferocity no one had ever thought her capable of. "Now put the feather back, _now!_"

The boy's mind was reeling. She knew he'd been the one touching her? She knew he had touched her private spot? She was _telling_ him to… what?! "Wha- Wait, you want me to keep going?!"

"_**Yes!"  
**_  
"But that's-"

"_**Sky Dragon-"**_

"Okay, okay, I'm doing it!" Carn was shocked that Wendy was so adamant about this, but he'd never felt someone deny him at the peak of a top tier orgasm before. He couldn't have known just how pissed it could make someone, even a gentle soul like Fairy Tail's most kind-hearted dragon slayer. He _did_ know however, that when Wendy threatened to smash him with magic, she was serious. He'd learned that the hard way what felt like a long time ago now, on that day she was trying to _stop_ him from touching her someplace private.

So the boy, now with throbbing need of his own that he was scared to deal with (the fact that Wendy still couldn't see him didn't occur to him) picked the feather back up and placed it back where the desperate female wizard wanted it-right on top of her clit. And in that moment, something changed. "Yes! YES! YEHEHES AAAHN!" As the clones descended upon her once again, Carn felt that some new level of understanding had been reached. "CARN! AHAHA! CAAAAHRN! AHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The boy tapped the clone tickling in Wendy's armpits and made it trade places with him. When he dug his fingers into that spot, he felt like she knew it was him. This was his spot; of course his fingers would be the ones tickling her armpits, of course he would be the one with his face in front of hers, of course he would be the one that, if she just leaned forward a bit…

"MMMMmmmm! 3" There and then, on that day, as Wendy experienced her first third orgasm, the two kids shared their first kiss, and the fetish, temporarily, beyond the scope of any argument, stopped being innocent.

But it wouldn't go any further than that for a long, long time…

* * *

After the incident at the tower, the other members of Fairy Tail were more vigilant of Carn and Wendy than ever, and the two were unable to find any opportunities to sneak away despite their best efforts. But that was fine. They both agreed that they needed to spend a bit more time with the others anyway lest they do something even more drastic than a fake kidnapping. Because of that, the two didn't spend any more quality time together before the next major event.

But that event turned out to be a clash on Tenrou Island.

It happened suddenly, at the end of a great conflict. The mighty dragon Acnologia appeared at Tenrou Island and attempted to slaughter everyone on it. Because of the power of the great spell Fairy Heart, the dragon's rampage was thwarted and Fairy Tail's heavy-hitters survived. But while they were shielded from danger, five years passed for the outside world. Wendy was inside the shield. Carn was outside. Wendy didn't age. Carn did.

And so it was that when the lost members of Fairy Tail returned, both sides found a great many shocks. For those that thought the guild's glory days were over and half their family were gone, it was a moment of celebration and relief, though also one of sadness at discovering how their comrades lost so much time without even knowing it. For those that had been frozen in time, it was as though they had left behind home day and returned to find it run down and ragged the next. The guild was devastated and bullied, their family older and generally less impressive.

But for Carn and Wendy, the deepest shock was the sudden age gap. Before she left, Wendy and Carn were both 12. Now the boy was 17, almost an adult. That presented a problem they didn't know how to deal with.

Finding an opportunity to talk to each other about it was… difficult. There was the Grand Magic Games to deal with, after all. And everyone in the guild was even more wary of what the two might do together now that their age was even more of a questionable point than it had been before.

...No, that was an excuse. The truth was they didn't know how to bring it up. Time passed, their relationship stagnated, and their guildmates stopped worrying something _would_ happen… and started worrying something _wouldn't_.

* * *

Then one day, after much time had passed, the two stumbled onto one another quite by accident.

"Oh my, fancy running into you here!"

Indeed, very much by accident…

"Oh, Carla, I actually needed to speak with you about something. Carn, I'm sorry, but could we cut practice short for today?"

If Carla and Pantherlily were to be believed, it was just a coincidence that while out for a walk Carla had _happened_ to lead Wendy out to where Pantherlily had taken to training the green-haired boy-pardon me-_young man_ in the last month.

Carn wasn't buying it for a moment. He'd grown more observant of these sorts of things over the years, and there was no way this event wasn't staged. Wendy seemed to know it too and was looking for an opportunity to slip away from him, he could tell. He didn't blame her; he felt as awkward as she did. So he decided to save her the trouble of trying to make up an excuse to leave and do it himself. "My apologies, Wendy," he said with a polite bow. "I actually have to keep training, so I think I'll go meet up with Cana or maybe Gajeel."

These might sound like odd choices for training partners, but Carn had clearly hardened in the past five years. He was older and taller, of course, but he also had a scar on his face, some green fuzz on his chin, he carried a sword at his hip and he was wrapped in a brown outfit similar to Mystogan's (but without his face being covered). Magic item training and sword skills were his fortes and he trained with those most likely to help with them.

Indeed, the fact that he was much more of a man now than he was five years ago was cruelly evident whenever Wendy looked at him. And as he turned to leave, she felt an unbearable pang of longing for what they once had. "Wait!" she called after him. He paused with his back still turned. But what should she say next? She stumbled over her words for a moment and then asked, "Could we… I mean, maybe instead we could… train together? Like we used to?"

The young man did not turn around. His response clearly came through gritted teeth as he clenched a hand to stop it from shaking. "We can't." He meant to leave it at that and walk away dramatically, severing the connection forever. But he couldn't quite stop himself from saying more. "I'm going to be an adult next year, Wendy. You're still a kid. I'm too old for you."

"I don't care!" Wendy yelled back, feeling a dam burst on her emotions. "I… I love you, Carn…!"

The swordsman didn't turn around. He cruelly responded, "I don't. I've moved on and grown up." Wendy looked down at the ground. "I like women my own age now." She started to walk over to him with her fists clenched as well. "Not to mention, I like girls with big boobs, and you don't have those." That one hurt, as it was intended to. But still, Wendy resolutely walked in front of him, raised her head, met Carn's poker face with a glare and…

...raised her sleeveless arms over her head. "Prove it."

Carn's face immediately reddened. He tried to avert his eyes, yelling, "P-p-put those down! S-s-someone could be watching." But it was a shallow excuse given Wendy's dragon slayer nose. No one was watching. Carla had _ensured_ no one was watching. And on top of that, the man's eyes, though they darted this way and that, inevitably bounced back to the dragon slayer's armpits again and again.

"I knew it. You _do_ still want them," Wendy said, her own face an odd mixture of expressions. She was puffy-faced and angry, her cheeks were red mostly from embarrassment, her eyes were tearing up with sadness and relief simultaneously, and her pose remained as it was-a quite out-of-place sensual one given the storm of feelings inside her. "And don't tell me you like big boobs. I know you. You don't like big boobs."

Carn felt like that last part was added more because of her own insecurity than because she was actually sure of it. But she _had_ effectively cornered and caught him. "Alright, fine, yes, I do still have feelings for you. Of course I do. But we _can't be together._ It won't-"

Carn's complaints were silenced by something unexpectedly bold: Wendy grabbing his scarf, and pulling him down where she could kiss him on the lips. "I. Don't. Care." It was the sort of action he never expected from her, but the look on her face, with tears now flowing freely, told him it was her last act of desperation. If he pushed her away now… that would be it. It would be over.

…

…

…

Carn reached out and stroked Wendy's hair longingly. He looked down, looked back at her, and looked down again. "If we do this… it won't be like it was before. I know more about how this stuff works now." Wendy said nothing. She stared him in the eyes and waited for him to make up his mind. Finally, with a sigh, Carn said, "Come on."

* * *

The old familiar spot in the woods the two used to "train" in hadn't changed much. At least there was the tree with the overhanging branch that Wendy would be tied to, just as it always was, and it was still silent and secluded, and those were really the only details that had been especially important. Like they always did when they came out here, Wendy stripped off her dress and sandals, leaving her only in panties.

That was where Carn made the first change. "That one too." And he pointed to those panties.

"Eh?" Wendy's face reddened greatly, and she shoved a hand between her legs protectively. "Th-th-th-that's-!"

"Normal," Carn interrupted. He started to remove his own clothing as well, revealing well-toned but not excessive muscle and hair. "It's normal for boyfriend and girlfriend to take off _everything_ at times like this." He paused with his hand on his boxers and looked at Wendy with a face that seemed at once challenging and unexpectant. "I'm not a kid anymore. I want to see _all_ of my girlfriend, not _most_ of her. And I want the same vice-versa."

The implication was simple. He hadn't accepted that this could work out yet. Wendy's mind wasn't developed enough to go along with- "Fine!" In a huff, her face beat red but also resolute, the blue-haired girl pulled the panties down, revealing what was underneath. Now it was Carn's turn to be flustered as she said, "There. Your turn. Do it." And reluctantly, having had his bluff called, the young man pulled off his own underwear as well.

Tying up Wendy had been awkward for the two of them many, many times before. But _never_ as awkward as when they were both naked as the day they were born. Wendy was staring with something between fascination, distaste and just plain shock at the weird, pointy thing between Carn's legs the whole time and he in turn had to struggle to stay focused on his task and not do the same to her. On top of that, Carn had apparently gotten a lot better with his magic rope, not settling for merely tying Wendy's arms overhead, but also lifting her feet off the ground so that they were suspended face up behind her while also keeping her legs spread.

It all happened in something of a daze, and when the setup was finished, only then did Carn realize just how many lines they'd crossed and how irreversible the situation was. But Wendy's face was still stubbornly expectant and as he gazed at her-still as radiant and beautiful as the day he met her in a completely different world-he finally threw hesitation to the wind. _Screw it; I can't say "No" to her._

He walked over to her unarmed. "You're not using any tools today?" Wendy asked in a hushed tone, clearly still dazed herself.

Carn shook his head. "No… No, I think after all this time, I should just use my fingers. I… I want to remember what you feel like." It sounded creepy to him when he heard it out loud, but it was the truth, and judging from the way Wendy nodded her assent, she seemed to feel the same way. So he raised his fingers, his much longer fingers, and placed them on her soft-and-delicate-looking sides. Then finally, for the first time in over five years, he started to tickle her.

"Hm! Hmhm! Eeheehee!" Wendy's giggles were small at first. Carn was holding back, but when he started to hear that old, familiar, beautiful sound, his fingers naturally started to regain their former skill. "Eeheeheehee! AhahahaHAHAHAHAHAHA!" Overcome by a passion he'd forgotten-a passion he'd _buried_ deep inside himself-Carn's fingers drilled their way up the girl's sides and into her armpits. Her beautiful, soft, mesmerizing, adorable, irresistibly ticklish armpits.

"Wendy…" The name slipped out of his mouth in a near whisper, as if he was just now recognizing her. Then he did what he'd wanted to do again every day since that day at the tower; he bent over and kissed her. A long and passionate kiss while his hands tormented her armpits. To any outside observer who might catch them at this moment, the whole situation would look like child abuse of the highest order, but to them, it was culmination of everything they'd wanted, everything they thought they'd lost, and everything they never wanted to lose again. "Wendy," he said again, pulling back from the kiss. "I… I love you."

Panting as the older teen gave her a break so she could respond, Wendy started to cry again, but this time with a smile on her face, one flushed with passion and giggliness yet somehow also moved and content. "I love you too, Carn. I always will."

* * *

The passage of time changes things yet also keeps them the same in unfathomable ways. If two should truly love each other in the end and are clearly meant to be together, then was their fetish innocent from start to finish? Or perhaps if their love should start from a fetish, it was never innocent in the first place? Did it start innocent and end guilty? Or start guilty and end innocent? Wendy and Carn would never have an answer to these questions. Nor would it matter. What mattered was that they and their love of tickling would be together forever.


	6. Ticklish Racism

**Warning: This story contains themes of racism between white cops and a black teen. This is meant only to be a silly, entertaining story portraying none of these characters or their actions as good. The views expressed by any character in this story do not reflect the views of the author. Even so, it is potentially highly triggerable, and reader discretion is advised.**

**This commission for DA user MichaelFrosty880 was... interesting. I don't really know how else to describe it soooo... Let's just say this is proof that I will write what I'm commissioned to write.**

**I have another commission coming up very, very soon. Will probably be posted on Tuesday.**

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**Ticklish Racism**

"So I said, 'I don't give a shit about how it looks in the movies. I see a donut, I'm eating it, so sue me.'"

"And what did she say to that?"

"Oh, she just rolled her eyes and said something about me being a shit cop or something like that. That relationship didn't last very long."

It was close to midnight in X City. Two policemen sat in a parked car eating the stereotypical food in question and chatting idly to pass the time. They were supposed to be on patrol-and they had been-but after getting very hungry, they'd both agreed to pull over at a 24-hour 7-Eleven and grab some donuts. This particular area of the city was almost deserted at this time of night anyway; the people lived around here were rowdy and unsafe. Crime and gang fights were commonplace, so anyone sighted by the police at this time was considered suspicious, _especially_ the ones who _looked_ the part. For that very reason, people in this area were extremely cautious of police cars at nighttime, and the two lazy donut-eaters didn't have much to do.

One of them, a man in his late twenties with straight black hair suddenly took note of a boy walking along the side of the road approaching the 7-Eleven. "Uh oh. There's a black guy over there."

"Damn. I was enjoying the peace and quiet." His patrol partner, a red-haired man with glasses in his mid-thirties scowled, making no effort to hide his prejudice. "How old does he look to you?"

The first one shook his head and bit his lip. "Hard to say. Maybe… late teens? Early twenties? I don't know, it's too dark out here." It was, as stated before, near midnight and the boy in question was wearing a hoodie. To be fair, the two policemen couldn't really tell for sure that he was, in fact, a black man, but of _course_ considering where they were and what he was wearing he _probably_ was. "What do you think he's up to? Maybe he's planning to rob the 7-Eleven?"

The red-haired cop shook his head with a shrug. "Robbery, murder, it doesn't matter. No one out this late in this neighborhood is doing anything legal. ...Well, no one except us, obviously." He put the keys in the ignition and started up the car, flashing the siren and driving toward the boy in the hoodie. The boy in turn jumped in surprise, clearly revealing his face to them for a moment before taking off in the opposite direction. "See? It's always the same with these guys. We haven't even said 'Hello' yet and he's already making a run for it."

"Three… two… one…" Suddenly the unknown person trying to run away tripped as his pants-a size too large and lacking a belt-slipped down around his knees. "Yep, teen or early twenties. They're so stupid." The dark-haired man chuckled as the police car pulled up alongside the run-away. "Yelling or gloating?"

The man at the steering wheel shrugged as he parked the car. "Let's go with gloating; he doesn't look like much of a threat to me."

The doors to the vehicle opened, and the black boy, with his pants just barely pulled up again, found himself flanked on two sides one way by humans and the other way by a wall and car. The policemen took their time walking over, not bothering to rush him yet. "Excuse me, sir!" One of them said, getting close enough to see the boy's face-somewhere from 17-19 by the looks of him. "Mind if I ask what a… _fine_ gentleman such as yourself is doing out and about?"

"The hell is it ta you, man?" the boy responded, shrugging and shaking his head. "Ah ain't done nuthin' bad."

"You ran; resisting arrest is a crime by itself." It was the most round-about logic imaginable although the law does technically list resisting arrest as a crime, the fact that they'd had no reason to arrest him in the first place was still true.

The unjustly accused man did nothing to help his case, though. "You white cops are full of shit! You gonna arrest me eitha' way; ah'd rather take mah chances runnin' than try to talk wit' y'u a-AH!"

The police officer approaching from behind yanked the boy's wrists behind him and pulled him over to the car with his companions aid, grabbing his sides in the process. "You have the right to remain silent, yada yada yada, let's get you outta here."

But the boy struggled and squirmed. At first the officers thought he was just being difficult, but… "Yo mahahan, watch whehere yo're puttin' yo're hahahands!" That wasn't it. Having his side squeezed, however accidentally, was tickling the teen.

One of the cops grinned at the other. "I think we just found our next source of information…"

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Some time later, the black boy was locked up in a cell at the police station. It was quite an usual one too; the boy's hands were locked in cuffs over his head and his ankles in stocks in front of him. It hadn't just happened, of course; he'd been kicking and cussing the entire way. But this entire police force seemed to be complicit in these sorts of "questionably legal shenanigans." No one came to stop the two who had arrested him without cause, and some even _helped_ them get the boy in the stocks.

Now he was just sitting there, quite bored, trying to ignore how embarrassed he was about having his shirt and footwear removed. After what must have been at least half an hour, the red and black haired policemen returned waving a file in front of his face. "Young Mr. Andrew Samson," the older one said, taking a seat next to him. "17 years old, no previous record, but your family… Ohoho, you're family is super dirty. And now you're following in their footsteps; I'm sure they're proud of that."

"Shut the hell up, man." The boy-Andrew-spit on the floor at the officers' feet. "You think yo're so smart diggin' that up, doncha? Yeah, but I know who you are too. Mah brotha told me 'bout you; Don and Dave the Dumb Donut Dudes. Dat's what everyone calls you. Ya sit around in yo' car eatin' donuts and grabbin' any nigga who passes by. I bet you two ain't ever arrested a real criminal in yo' lives."

That ticked off the two cops. What Andrew said wasn't completely incorrect-the fact that Don and Dave were the laziest members of the force was well known. But never arrested a real criminal before? This city was full of crime! They'd been punched, kicked, shot at, one of them almost got blown up by a bazooka before! And all of those criminals had been black people, just like Andrew and his family, so they felt owed a little downtime and payback every now and then. Was that so wrong?

So, now thoroughly annoyed, Dave, the older cop sitting next to Andrew, nodded to his partner and said, "I think that counts as disrespecting the law, don't you? And it's our moral and legal duty to dole out punishment. But he _is_ still a minor, so we'll have to use the _appropriate_ punishment for kids."

Don nodded in response, while Andrew started yelling. "Ah'm a bigger man than you white people will ever be! Ah ain't the one pullin' dudes off the street and-AH! Ahahaha! Hey! Motherfuuuahahahaha!" But Don's fingers cut him off. From where he was standing at the end of the stocks, he had full access to Andrew's bare ebony soles. His hands wiggled up and down, scratching slowly over the entire length of the boy's feet.

"Now," Dave said, as the angry black boy struggled to contain himself, "I think it's time to tell us what you were _really_ doing out there at midnight. Also, tell us everything you're dirty family's been doing: every gang they're involved in, every black market sale they have coming up, all of it."

Andrew swore in response, trying to hold in giggles all the while. But holding back was impossible; without knowing it Don had zeroed right in and Andrew's most ticklish spot, and he wasn't holding back. So Andrew struggled to look tough as best he could by demeaning the cops. "Whahahaht's wrong wit' y'u freheheheheheaks?! Arrrrgh! Ain't this cruhuhuhuhuel and an' unusuhuhuhual punishment or somethin'?" In point of fact, there was absolutely nothing legal about this, and both policemen were thoroughly aware of it. They just didn't care, and frankly neither did anyone else in this thoroughly corrupt police force.

Don laughed at the boy's struggles. "Not so tough now, are you? I'm barely even touching you!"

Dave joined the laughter, starting to poke at Andrew's sides. "He ain't no man. This ticklish and chubby? He's just a little baby!"

The taunting and tickling continued over Andrew's insistent protestations. Don's fingers tested out various methods of tickling Andrew's feet-poking, scratching, sliding, wiggling over the heels, soles, tops, toes. He was steadily making a list in his mind of what worked best, subtly so that Andrew wouldn't catch on. Meanwhile Dave slowly and softly teased Andrew's upper body, sliding his fingers over his stomach and sides and ribs and armpits _just_ enough to complement Don's tickling without messing up his investigation. Then, once Don was done with his mapping, they switched roles. Dave started tickling hard-pinching and squeezing and scratching and digging-while Don slowed down and used his fingers only to remind Andrew that he was still there.

All the while, Andrew swore and cussed and called the cops any number of names-most deserved, some not, and some just weird. (Seriously, who uses "milk lover" unironically as an insult?) The two police officers only responded to the verbal abuse with demeaning teases, calling the boy a baby, a weakling, a fatty, and an orange juice drinker among other things. (There was a whole miniature argument over breakfast drinks in here, apparently.)

Finally the two policemen paused and let him have a break. Dave leaned over the panting, sweaty boy with a nasty smirk on his face. "Feel like talking yet? What sort of stuff is your family involved in. We know they're up to no good."

Andrew panted for a few more seconds before defiantly saying a mere three words. "Fuck you, man."

The cops looked at each other with mock pity, shrugging and shaking their heads. "Then I guess that means it's time for the good cops to go away and the bad cops to play."

By now the two policemen had a very good grasp on where all of Andrew's tickle spots were. Now the _real_ fun could begin. Don started lightly flickering his fingers under the boy's toes-which was surprisingly effective-while Dave focused on squeezing Andrew's sides rapidly.

The boy burst out louder than he had thus far. "HAHAHAHAHA! YOU FUHUHUHAHAHAHAHA! STOHOHOHOHOHAHAHAHA!" Officially laughing too hard for him to get more than two words out, Andrew found himself shaking uselessly within the restraints as hard as he could.

Dave started whispering taunts directly into his ear, making sure Andrew could hear over the sound of his own voice. "You've got all this ticklish fat! Thick black boy is ticklish on his chubby spot!"

"Tell him his toes are as ticklish as a little girl's!" Don yelled over to Dave, and Dave obliged.

"Your toes are as ticklish as a little girl's. I'll bet they'd love the feathers. Do your toes love feathers? Would baby's toes like some feathers?"

Andrew tried to protest that no, he did not want them to start using feathers on his toes, but he couldn't say much. Instead he just laughed and squirmed about. But with Dave right next to his ear, that thrashing caused Andrew's elbow to slam into his forehead.

"Ow!"

"Hahaha!"

Dave reeled back from the shock of the blow, while Don started pointing and laughing at his partner's stupidity. A lump appeared on Dave's forehead while he glared at his partner and half-mumbled, "Shut up and get the feathers." Then transferring his gaze over to the bound prisoner, he added, "I'm going to make you regret that."

"It's ya' own fault fo' doin' all this in the first place," boy mumbled back, adding a "Stupid white guy" a few seconds later.

Dave was in no mood to debate who was in the right here, not that he ever was. His forehead was throbbing; he'd shifted from having fun to being in pain, and hearing Andrew's comment only made him angrier. His hands returned to the older teen's sides again and squeezed vengefully. "We'll see how smart that mouth of yours is after another three hours, chubby!"

Don, on the other hand, was thoroughly amused by all this and took his time opening up his little "toolkit" and pull out a pair of feathers. He silently held them up over his partners shoulders, making certain Andrew saw them before doing anything he slowly, lazily, playfully slid them around the boy's toes, letting Dave's wrath and his gentle touch contrast with each other.

The sensations mingled in Andrew's mind and sent him into a longer laughing fit than any he'd had so far. He laughed so much in fact that… "_Hic!_"

The man attending to the boy's toes doubled over with laughter himself when he heard it. "Hey man, do hear that! The little guy's getting the hiccups!"

The second cop awoke from his anger as he listened for what his partner had noticed. And upon noticing it himself, the remnants of the dull, throbbing pain in his head were forgotten. "Daaaamn, that's gotta be embarrassing. Baby boy's got the hiccups now?"

"SCREWHUHUHUHUHU YOUHUHUHUHUHUHU MAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAN! _Hic!_" Andrew managed to squeeze out a retort, but under the circumstances, it didn't sound the least bit threatening at all. It could easily have been mistaken as playful if the situation had been different.

"You know what I think?" Don said, bringing the feathers back up to bear against the squirming toes. "I think that he _likes_ being tickled. Just listen to that laugh? Doesn't he sound so happy? And he still isn't talking yet either; if he really hated it, he could just be a good boy and tell us what we want to know."

Andrew shook his head wildly, but when the two officers tickled in tandem like this, he couldn't find the lungpower necessary to verbally object to anything either of them said. He wanted to tell them to go make gay love somewhere and then take a permanent trip to hell, but he couldn't even manage to say "Go." And shaking his head, at this moment, conveyed nothing. They just passed it off as more struggling and continued with their taunts, not that it would've changed anything if they had understood.

"Indeed, I agree. In that case, we'll just have to go… _harder_," Dave said ominously, hinting that they still weren't pulling out all the stops yet. Of course they weren't. As far as the two cops were concerned, this was playing on easy mode.

The pair of tormentors paused and allowed Andrew to catch his breath while preparing their next move. Don lifted up a pair of hairbrushes. Dave slipped on a pair of gloves covered in rough, tickly fuzz. And Andrew had to sit there and watch them do it. He tried to play it off by making fun of them, saying that Don's hairbrushes looked like they belonged to some hoe and Dave's gloves made him look like some kind of Micky Mouse mascot (which, honestly, given the shape of his hair, they kinda did). But that was all a very transparent bluff to hide the fact that he was shaking in the stocks. He could tell at a glance these tools would not be fun to experience.

The two cops didn't react to his accusations. They taunted him with silent smirks, waving the tools around for a good long while. And then, finally, when it started to feel like the anticipation alone might cause Andrew to have a mental breakdown, the officers struck. "AHAHAHAHAHAHA! NNNNAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" The black boy quickly exhausted himself as the tools went about their work. His feet liked a soft touch as a general rule, but few people faced with hairbrush scrubbing can think it anything less than one of the most torturous ticklings known to mankind, and Andrew was no exception. Meanwhile, the prickly feeling of the gloves amplified Dave's squeezing, pinching tickling and made the sensations on his upperbody feel more torturous than he could have anticipated.

Dave stared directly into the boy's face and laughed at him. "Aww, whatsa matta'? Can't take a little tickling? Big rough and tough boy can't handle the tickling? Hehe, you're just a big bundle of soft stuffing; no strong man here."

"Give him the "brushie, brushie, brushie," talk," Don called over to his partner. "I can't do it from over here; I don't think he can hear me."

"Brushie, brushie, brushie! Big black baby can't get away from the brushies!" Dave happily obliged his partner's request, but the boy was laughing so hard, it was hard to tell if anything was getting through to him.

This continued for about three minutes, and then the cops gave Andrew a short break. They were only planning to give him about 30 seconds and then attack again, but before they could… "Wait, wait, yeah, okay, I was headin' out to meet up for a drug deal, okay?!" Andrew dropped a bombshell.

Let us rewind our story a bit for those who have mistakenly believed Andrew to be an innocent victim in all of this. The area this boy lives in, the one these two cops were patrolling, was one of the most volatile, crime-infested sections of the city in daylight. The only reasons the nights were peaceful were because the city had severe curfew laws in effect for that area and the police force was on constant patrol at night. Technically, though, the law in question only applied to adults, so Andrew, being 17, was not violating it when Don and Dave arrested him. That just made him more suspicious, though, as a possible messenger for those looking to do dirty deals at night, and given his family's history, that seemed highly likely.

Now let no one say that this in any way excuses the two police officers for their actions. At the time Andrew was arrested and all throughout their "interrogation", there was absolutely no evidence that he had done or was attempting anything illegal. Don and Dave did what they did because they were racists; there's no denying that. But in this city, racism on both sides was commonplace. Most black people thought white cops were evil, and most white people thought black people were criminals. These were accepted by each camp as basic truths, and that in turn made it difficult for someone like Andrew, growing up in that environment, to travel down any path other than one of crime and for Don and Dave, as police officers having to deal with it, to see any black man without immediately being on guard.

In this particular case, Andrew had apparently been dispatched by his family to negotiate a drug deal with another gang from outside the city. He was sent unarmed, as just a boy heading to a 7-Eleven, because that was seen as the simplest way to have him avoid suspicion. But Andrew panicked at the sight of the police car and tried to run away, and any possible chance of talking his way out of trouble with Don and Dave died instantly.

Having proven to themselves that they had indeed done a good job, the two police officers started metaphorically slapping each other on the back.

"Well done, Officer Dale."

"Indeed, you did a wonderful job too, Officer Drake."

"Even yo' _last_ names start wit' 'D'?!" Andrew cried out in surprise at this ridiculous revolation, but he had bigger problems to worry about when the policemen started to leave the room. "'Ey, where ya goin'?!"

Don turned around with a wink. "Oh, you know, just to grab some supplies to help with taking down your confession." And the door shut behind them.

Andrew was left alone for a long time, grumbling about how the donut duo's names and title had too many "D"s for lack of anything better to do in the ensuing silence. He was worried about the looks on their faces and the tone of their voices as they left; he had this nagging suspicion in the back of his mind that this whole tickling thing wasn't over yet. He tried to distract himself as much as possible by figuring out just how many "D"s describing Don and Dave he could string together in a row. "Don Dale and Dave Drake, the dumb, deluded, duncy, donut-devo'ring duo dun did a damn dank dance." But while he was chuckling to himself for being so clever, the door opened once more and his fears were confirmed.

Don and Dave had returned with several more officers, none of whom seemed particularly put off by the sight of a boy in stocks in a modern interrogation room. The original two cops were now holding pens and notepads and had even put on pairs of glasses to make themselves look more intelligent. "Now, what were you saying about your family's crimes? Please go into great detail."

Andrew had decided a while back that he wasn't going to say anything again, but finding himself surrounded by six more policemen, taking up positions around his highly exposed body, that decision was suddenly very unimportant to him. He blurted out every detail he could think of while the two idiots wrote on their notepads. They would not their heads and ask questions about certain things in clearly fake studious accents. Not all of the questions were on topic either; they asked things from who their family's contacts were to what their favorite movies were. And mixed in among them were also questions about how ticklish they were, whether it ran in the family, what their worst tickle spots were and so on. And eager to avoid another tickling himself, Andrew blurted it all out, essentially selling out all of his family's secrets. It wasn't like he'd be able to hold it in if they started tickling him again anyway, so he might as well just get it over with.

When it was all done, Don and Dave turned around and had a "whispered" conference, making sure to utter phrases like "Yes", "Are you sure?", "I agree", etc. loudly enough for Andrew to hear. Then once they were done "comparing notes", they turned back around and as one, in a clearly rehearsed motion, they pointed to Andrew and said, "He lies! Punish him!"

The six police officers that had thus far been standing silently at the ready launched their attack immediately without giving the boy a chance to complain about how unfair this was. There was one policeman for each foot, holding them motionless with one hand while tickling with the other, and the remaining four attacked his entire upperbody from his tummy to his armpits. Andrew was thrown back into fits of laughter, cursing and begging but unable to do anything to escape.

And standing off to the side watching, Don and Dave gave each other a fist bump. Technically, they couldn't keep Andrew here indefinitely. In order to make his brief incarceration legal, they needed to write a report saying they'd actually caught him at the _sight_ of the attempted drug sale. But that was fine. They had his confession now, so no one would question it. No one in this police force was going to talk about this to the higher ups. Andrew would spend some time in Juvenile Detention and then get released while his family was incarcerated and thrown in jail where the officers would have a very fun time with all of them.


	7. Nazarick's Tickling Dungeon

**Hello, hello, once again! These two latest commissions set back the schedule of my personal writings a bit, but between the money and how much I enjoyed writing _this_ one in particular, I can't complain.**

**This commission was placed by TheFinalWish on Discord via one of the servers I mod in: Enthusiasts. (Which for the record is a great server, and if you enjoyed this story, by all means contact me and let me invite you to join it; I think you'll enjoy it there.) In today's tale, we journey into the world of Overlord, where the master of the great tomb of Nazarick, Ainz Ooal Gown, is about to condemn a poor little girl, Nemu Emmot, to a most cruel and undeserved tickling punishment. **

**On a side note, I'm heading out into the military a month from now, and that being the case, I'm going to be closing up commissions in five days (May 16). If you'd like to try and have me write a story for you, now's going to be your last chance for a while. I would post a link to my commission info, but fanfiction doesn't allow that, so instead, just head over to DeviantArt and look for my Username-it's the same as here: Ticklesforyou. If you message my before midnight on the 16 (and I have a slot available), I'll slip you into the queue.**

* * *

The fall of Carne Village came unexpectedly swiftly. No one thought that a land so loyal the Sorceror King Ainz Ooal Gown could come to ruination. But in truth, all it took was one unfortunate accident. Nfirea, the boy that Lord Ainz wanted to keep happy and loyal so as to make use of his incredible potion-making abilities, had tripped and fallen neck first onto sharp rock. That was all it took. In that instant, when the boy died not by treachery or conquest but by an act of the gods, the village's fate was sealed.

"We originally planned on keeping villagers happy and loyal to us, but that was only a means of ensuring that Nfirea did good work for our Lord. Now that he is gone, I believe the village poses more of a potential threat than an aid. The girl, Enri, possesses a goblin army of notable size and strength, and while they are certainly no danger to us at present, the rate at which her sphere of influence is growing has me somewhat concerned. If our enemies decided to stir up unrest within our territory by turning Carne Village against us, it could serve as an effective diversion while they attack us from another direction."

These were the words of the Sorceror King's strategist, Demiurge. And while Ainz was not keen on the idea of attacking those who had done him no wrong to date, he could not refute the points he was making. _When I gave Enri that item, I never imagined it could give her control over such a large goblin force. _"I hear what you are saying, Demiurge. However, could we not simply incorporate Carne Village into the armies of Nazarick?"

The demon shook his head. "That might be effective in the short term, but based on the Pleiades' reports, I think that would be unwise. Enri doesn't appear to be the sort of human who would remain loyal to you indefinitely considering your goal of world domination. Of course, I'm sure you've already taken that into account, my Lord."

"A-a-as expected of you Demiurge! Indeed you have passed this test." _I hadn't thought about it that way, but he's right. The people of Carne Village don't even know that I'm not human._ In the past, Ainz would've been horrified by the idea of eliminating innocent people from the world. But now, all he felt was a mild hesitation and the phantom sense that he _should_ care about humans more. But he didn't, and because he didn't, he agreed with Demiurge's assessment. "Very well then. But I urge you to avoid killing the inhabitants as much as possible. Send them to the dungeons for experimentation instead so that we might still make use of them."

"As you wish, my Lord."

And that was that. Within the next 10 minutes, Carne Village no longer existed…

* * *

Ainz Ooal Gown walked through the dungeon past the rows of gagged villagers and goblins, not bothering to hide his face behind a mask this time. When he came to the cell that housed Enri and saw her shrieking in horror, his thoughts turned inward. _I came here thinking that maybe if I saw these people in this state, it might spark some sense of humanity within me. But even seeing all this, I feel nothing but apathy toward them._

The overlord proceeded to walk right past Enri and would probably have simply left the dungeon behind without any further thought had something else not caught his eyesockets. "Hm?" There was a girl-a child-chained up in the cell next to Enri's: her younger sister Nemu. Ainz looked upon her and felt a twinge of something, but it wasn't the pity he'd expected. _Ah, that's right. I'd started to forget since my libido has been so hampered in this body, but I used to have a particular fetish, didn't I?_ Putting a skeletal hand to his chin, the Sorceror King sank into thought, then nodded to himself, having apparently reached a decision. _It would've been unthinkable in my old world, but here… I can't bring myself to care about human rights anyway, so why not?_

* * *

Nemu regained consciousness in a different room than before. Originally, she'd been chained up with enough slack to move around her cell, though her mouth had been gagged so she couldn't speak. Now it was the other way around; her mouth felt free to move again, but her body was latched down to an X-frame. Additionally, she'd been stripped of her clothing, leaving her fully exposed and vulnerable.

At another time, these would be the things she noticed first, and she would've started screaming for her sister. But the moment she opened her eyes, she saw something to be far more terrified of. In front of her was a creature both beautiful and ugly: a winged harpy with the face of a woman, the tongue and fangs of a serpent, and the glowing red eyes of a demon. The monster in front of her, staring at her, frightened Nemu to the point that she couldn't speak right away. Her mind started to distance itself from reality, something easy to do for a child who'd just woken up. Perhaps this was just a dream-surely it must be. She started to grow faint and lose consciousness again.

But a fluttery sensation along Nemu's midriff prevented that. "EEHEHEHEHEHEHEHE!" The child shrieked, her eyes opening wide at the harpy sliding it's wing across her stomach a single time.

The harpy smiled at her reaction cruelly and chuckled. "Wakey, wakey! You can't go to sleep yet; the fun's just about to start! Be grateful, pitiful human spawn, our merciful Lord Ainz has decided to make your time here as gentle as possible by handing you over to me. I couldn't be more grateful; I haven't had a good toy to play with since a dispute between the Supreme Beings in Yggdrasil shortly after I was created. It's been so incredibly boring."

Nemu started to cry. No matter how much she wanted to pretend this wasn't happening, she couldn't escape from it. "Sister… please…" She called out to Enri between sobs, but the truth of the matter was, her sister could do nothing to protect her.

"Hmph, it's not polite to judge someone by appearance like that," the harpy huffed, seeming quite put out by the girl's tears. "And it's far too early for you to be crying. Here, let me fix that…"

The harpy's wing swept over Nemu's stomach once more. The feathers did more than simply slide across her skin; they waved around in all directions as if each one was being controlled individually. Some of them even felt as if they were pinching and squeezing her tummy somehow. And that was when the girl realized her worst nightmare had come true. This monster wasn't going to eat her or beat her; it was going to tickle torture her.

For the child, in her youthful naivete, tickling was the worst torture known to humankind. Enri used to tickle Nemu all the time when she was naughty, but after her parents died, the two sisters started to treat each other more kindly. Ever since Nemu had started behaving responsibly, her sister had respected her fear of tickling and promised to never do it again. Nemu had _thought_ that as long as she was a good girl, she would never be tickled again.

So why was this happening?

As the wings slithered into the village girl's armpits, over her chest, between her legs and down to her toes, all she could think, aside from "It tickles" and "Make it stop", was "Why?" She'd been good hadn't she? She was polite and did her chores and everything. So why?

After just a few moments that felt like eternity, the tickling stopped. Nemu was already panting and heaving, having just experienced a torture more thorough and more cruel than she'd ever experienced. "Please. Why? What did I do wrong?" she pleaded to the harpy, who was moving around several ominous contraptions.

"I dunno. I don't care." The harpy waved a wing flippantly. "All that matters to me is that Lord Ainz personally said I can tickle you as much as I want, and that's what I plan to do."

"Please no. I can't take any more tickling. Please." Nemu pleaded the pleas that every victim of tickle torture pleas, but the harpy just laughed in her face.

"You think that was bad? Oho, you're going to be a fun one, silly girl." Grinning malevolently, the torturer paused what it was doing and leaned in close to the child's face. "That was just a little warm up, just to find your tickle spots. I haven't even _started_ to have fun with you yet."

Nemu was frightened into silence at that, whimpering and sobbing but otherwise quiet as the harpy pulled back and out of Nemu's line of sight. She came back a few moments later rolling up a cart with numerous strange items on it, none of which looked like tools for tickling at a glance. "What are you doing…?" the loli asked as the harpy placed a barely sprouted potted plant beneath her, though she was afraid to hear the answer.

Reaching over for some yellow gemstones and red tape with her talons, the harpy responded. "Just setting things up. Proper tickle torture requires preparation. Do you want to know what these do?" The harpy smiled wickedly as she covered the gemstones with the tape and placed them on Nemu's body, one in each armpit and one in her navel. "These Cosquijan Crystals-and also the Gargellion plant-respond to sounds of laughter. Once you start, they will strike, and there will be no escape." The Harpy grabbed another item, a small blue glass ball full of holes, and reached out to Nemu's pussy. "And this one… well, that's a surprise. I can't just spoil _all_ my surprises, can I?" And, with one talon, as gently as could possibly be expected, she pushed it deep inside Nemu's virginal hole, causing the girl to let out a sharp gasp and whimper at the violating sensation.

The harpy wasn't done yet. Not by a long shot. She tapped a magic circle on the wall behind Nemu and it sprung to life, immediately making her feel like something was off-like she could feel everything-the manacles, the wall behind her, the air in the room-so much more strongly. "I don't think I need to explain that one. It makes you more… sensitive." And then, she pulled up an item much like a tiara and wedged it tightly on Nemu's head. "And this one is extra special, a gift from Lord Ainz Ooal Gown himself. It's a World Class Item that freezes its wearer's time, guaranteeing that their status never changes: the Crown of the Immortal Princess. You cannot age, you cannot get tired, you cannot fall asleep, you cannot grow less sensitive, you cannot run out of air, your body cannot be harmed, you cannot get hungry or thirsty, and you cannot die. It offers protection from just about everything… except bondage… and tickling. In other words… I really can tickle you forever now."

The girl's tears flowed freely again. "Please. Please no. Please." She pleaded between sobs, wanting desperately to believe that the harpy would listen.

But she wouldn't. The smile on the harpy's face as her wings came tantalizingly close and pulled back again and again proved beyond the shadow of any doubt that she had no sympathy for the girl's plight whatsoever. She sought only to make it worse. The only reason the torture-a permanent torture-hadn't started yet was because the harpy was reveling in the final moments of making Nemu wonder when it would begin. "Now? Now? When are they gonna getchu? When are my feathers gonna getchu? Once they start, it won't ever stop. Now? Maybe now?" The harpy made Nemu jump and twitch and squirm with false start after false start. But before long she couldn't resist the temptation to watch the child's suffering any longer, and then, finally, her wings touched down on Nemu's ribs and undeveloped breasts.

"EHEHEHEHEHEHE! NOOOHOHOHOHOHO!" The feathers wiggled and whirled this way and that, somehow pinching the ribs and nipples between them as they traveled. Nemu naturally started laughing immediately-no one could resist the feathers of this creature that was designed to be the most insidious tickler in all the world.

But laughing only made things worse because the gemstones placed in the loli's armpits and navel then sprang to life. Were they vibrating? Buzzing? Fluttering? The sensation would have been difficult to describe for an adult, much less a child. It wasn't tickling in the same sense as any other known to exist, but it _did_ tickle. Every nerve ending in those areas was being stimulated, only a little at first but with increasing intensity as time went on.

And there was one more thing. As Nemu jerked and struggled under the tortures outside her body, something was happening _inside_ it too. She couldn't see, but she could feel something going on with that glass ball that had been shoved inside her vagina. Something was coming out of its holes and stimulating her powerfully. Nemu had never wondered if her pussy was ticklish before, much less if it was ticklish on the inside. Now she was wishing she'd never found out, because whatever that something was, it _tickled torturously_.

Once the gems and glass ball were tickling badly enough on their own to keep Nemu's laughter going without the feathers, the harpy abruptly pulled back and magically erected a transparent wall of light between them. "Well, that's about all I can do directly. Need to get to a safe distance before I get caught up in the next bit, after all. It will be hard being unable to get too close to you, but hopefully my little friend there will help keep you from getting lonely."

Nemu didn't have the presence of mind to ask what the harpy meant, too busy begging and pleading for her to take off the gemstones and pull out that horrible glass ball. But to her horror, she found out what her tormentor was talking about anyway when she felt something long and fuzzy start sliding between her toes. "NO! NO! NOHOHOHO! DOHOHOHOHON'T!" The plant between Nemu's legs had also started to grow, slowly, seeking the nearest patch of ticklish skin with its vines and working its way up.

Her feet were the first victims to the plant. It tied her toes back with small tendrils and started stroking over her soles and under her little digits. The sensation was like being tickled with some sort of fuzzy sandpaper-something to generate just the right amount of friction to make the fibers on the vines tickle horrendously. If not for the harpy's wings, Nemu would have never felt anything more ticklish before.

Her laughter spiked as a result, causing the unnamable stimulation in her pits and bellybutton to amplify along with the invasive feelings in her pussy. If not for human limitation, this would have caused an endless spiral of laughing louder and being tickled worse, so perhaps it was some small mercy that Nemu's lung capacity had limitations. However, despite how hard she laughed and thrashed, she didn't get tired, didn't get desensitized, didn't run out of air, and her lungs didn't even start to get sore. It was exactly as the harpy said; this cursed crown of immortality was ideal for making someone's ticklish torment last forever. Tickling was almost the _only_ thing she could feel. It dominated Nemu's mind and made her utterly miserable.

The only _other_ thing she felt was this feeling of _heat_ building up in her pussy. Nemu was a little girl and very much to young to have proper sex, but she had explored herself down there before like many children do. She knew this feeling but had never felt it coming from inside her before. She would be fascinated by it if not for the violation and the overwhelming tickle torture.

And the worst was _still_ yet to come. After all, the vines were not done growing. They wrapped around her legs, slowly traveling upward, sending jolts of ticklishness through her shins, behind her knees, over her thighs… and then reached the lower forbidden area themselves. "EEYAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA NOOOOHOHOHOHOHO!" Poor Nemu was unable to do anything as the vines, which seemed to know precisely what they were doing released more small tendrils to explore her most private regions, both front and back. Along the rear, a larger vine went straight up the middle of her butt crack, using the smaller protruding parts to explore every nook and cranny of it while in the front, two large vines wrapped over her hips and sent the smaller ones out to explore the folds of her pussy, from bottom to top, hole to clit.

Nemu's body was wracked with a dry orgasm as a result of this overstimulation, and that amplified her problems all the more by multiplying her ticklishness. And by now, the vines were in attack range of the her vulnerable upperbody. They dug into her her belly and ribs, stimulated her breasts and nipples, poked around any part of her armpits not already covered by the Coquijan Crystals. Nemu was officially fully at the mercy of the Gargellion plant, and the unintelligent creature in question had no mercy to speak of.

Nor did the harpy, watching contentedly from outside the barrier. "Ahhh, how I wish I could be in there with you. I really need to develop a version of the Gargellion that doesn't attack indiscriminately. Don't worry, we'll have more fun together when it reaches the end of its lifespan in a few weeks."

The words "a few weeks" barely reached Nemu's ears and it took her several hours to process their meaning. When she did, she finally understood. This was her life now. She was in hell.


End file.
